#just been forgetting to make a taglist hehe

[hannieehaee]

i made a taglist!! pls fill it in if ur interested in being tagged in future works <3

(pls lmk if theres anything wrong with it ive never made a taglist before T-T)

[hoseoksluna]

CHERRIES | jhs ft. jjk

pairing: soon-to-be-boyfriend!hobi x oc (feat. ex-boyfriend!jk)

genre: heavy, heavy, obnoxious smut

word count: 12.7k

summary: you don't know how he does it, but hobi makes you forget about the life you led before him, using his tongue.

playlist: hobi's playlist ; hobi's the weeknd playlist 

pinterest board: cherries / taglist: join

warnings: oh my god—dd/lg but differently, businessman!hobi, dominant and emotional and fucking possessive hobi, oc is horny... a lot, praise kink, breeding kink sdflhldghfdklaxjkfghskfg, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, female and male masturbation, use of a sex toy, cum eating, ass eating, religious personification, mentions of anal sex, thigh and ass slapping fuck

note: my babies, i'm so happy to be posting PART TWO OF BERRIES for you, oh my god. i had the time of my LIFE writing this, had to take breaks every 20 mins, was horny beyond my fucking mind BECAUSE THE SMUT IN THIS? FUCK. THIS IS PURE FILTH. 12K WORDS OF FILTHY HOBI SMUT. IM DEAD. HAVE BEEN DEAD. i missed writing so much that i spewed this out in 3 days... literally how? but i'm so happy to be back. i hope you enjoy this part. make sure to let me know what you think! i'm in a severe (hehe) need of your feedback. I LOVE YOU, MY BABIES. MWAH.

side note: this part has the entirety of my being in it. from the first word to the last. it means a lot to me. very special chapter! <3

By the time you come out of the art museum, it’s storming. A sound so cacophonous that it spreads dots of gooseflesh along the perimeter of your skin underneath your silk dress and the layer of your heavy trench coat. Loud and violent like your heart’s deep drum that stills once you see Hoseok leaning against his glossy car. Arms and legs crossed in the same fashion, clothed in the coupled shade of blackness, a mop of tousled hair swept back and rippling in the unforgiving wind that flushes his cheeks with its rosy coldness and then clouds pull in, darkening his stare fixed on you. 

A shower of sudden rain finishes its touch on his countenance. 

Eye contact broken, Hobi’s shoulders raise as he feels the iciness of the slender raindrops falling upon him, eyes flicked up to the shadowed heavens. A heartstring of yours snaps and you don’t really know who gave the command to your aching legs to run towards him with your coat suspended over your head—whether it was that weakened heart of yours or basic human decency. Emotion versus logic. 

You find soon enough the verdict of the winner. 

Because when you have to stand on your tippy toes to cover him from the rain, despite the fact you’re wearing your high-heeled boots, and Hobi takes the makeshift shield from your hands and shrouds you both from the wetness, an identical flush crawls from your left cheek, upon the column of your nose right next to your other cheek, warming you up from within. 

Emotion. The string that ruptured grows again to its full length during that fleeting moment and you’re aching to take him home. 

No rain in sight—just him in this close proximity, in this gray cocoon, smiling down at you lopsidedly, a dimmed light flickering in his inky pools, faintly, barely, only there for you to see. To catch and cling to like his patchouli scent does to you, a whiff of dainty wildflowers leaning in and enclosing around you, forcing away the thoughts that are erect in the corners of your mind, waiting for the adequate moment to strike. Thoughts of how you sense Jungkook’s life entwining around your world again; his companion perfuming the air with petrichor, the inner turmoil she must be facing the very strength that pulled those clouds in, causing a storm to stretch across the skies. You figure each beat of her confused heart must be the grumble of the thunder, but then Hobi’s outer film of softness amidst the darkness is a force way greater, because firmness broods right underneath it, and it is an energy that keeps those thoughts pressed against the walls of your mind.

He did turn you into a locked orchard—and the threat of another declared war isn’t even a wind that brushes past your fruit trees and berry bushes. 

In fact, the more you deepen your exchange of gazes and Hobi cages you in between his shirt-clothed elbows, the more you want to show him the stain of your juices upon your panties. 

You’re aroused—blooming, in need to be picked. It outweighs the past and you’re glad for it, deem your newly born sexuality more important than the doomed normalcy of your life. 

You sink your manicured nails into that newness, adamant on not letting it go, regretting that you agreed to see your ex-boyfriend later tonight, regretting that you grew soft at the hint of his own normalcy, even though you said to yourself that you wouldn’t. It’s one of the reasons why you dig your nails deeper, maximizing your closeness to Hobi—it’s done in an effort to erase your foolish moment of weakness, to better yourself like you encouraged yourself to do earlier when you had perceived that you misinterpreted him. You curl your lips under your teeth to stifle back a sigh, wishing you were as firm as him, as stable in your decisions and your way of living as him. Wishing your weakness wasn’t a putty you play with, leave your fingerprints of your bad decisions on that blemish until you hate yourself, until the paste hardens and there’s nothing left for you to do but to watch it. Watch the evidence of your failure, your brokenness and your imbecility like still life—the curse, the doom of your life, haunting you. 

It almost slinks in, threatening yet again to desiccate your orchard, the movement akin to a wave rolling in, but then Hobi speaks. And his voice sears those thoughts to nothing. Not even their shadows are left behind. 

“Did you say hi to your friend?” he murmurs, reaching behind him to open the door of the passenger side for you, the coat that’s propped on his forearm lowering until it rests back around your shoulders. 

You can merely nod, your empty mind focused on the absence of your selfishness—for once again, you want to be close to him for his sake, even more so when Hobi places his palm on the top edge of his car so you don’t hurt your head. 

A prince, an orchardist, and a gentleman. 

You’re feeding him and sucking his dick before he goes to work—you don’t care. Hope to God he fucks your brain out of your head and plants a new one; one that isn’t so stupid. 

Seated inside his car, you glimpse profoundly at the way the rain kisses the crown of his head as he rounds his vehicle, sitting right beside you and carrying inside his heavenly skin fragrance, now accentuated by the residue of petrichor that all of a sudden doesn’t have anything to do with what you just bore. No hints, no thoughts, no wars. How he does it is something you’ll never have the capability of understanding—a fracture of attention of the intimate kind and he binds you to him, erasing your still fresh past as if it never happened. 

You flex and relax your hand on your lap, a gesture that depicts that you cherish it to the point that you yearn to submit to it and remain submitted. And you will. You’ll figure out a way to stay stable, even if events appear to try and revolutionize you. A way to keep your fist clenched in his presence. 

Hobi lets the car warm up a little bit before he turns on the heating, angling his rear view mirror just right, from which two purple, plush dice swing back and forth, colliding once and never meeting again. 

How inspiring. 

And then you watch his hands. Watch them dominate the car, spur it to life as he drives through the drenched street, parting the rain like a curtain, stepping in, taking you home. 

As if he sensed your thoughts, he glances at you. “My place or yours?” 

A red light halts his control and Hobi uses it to tap on the screen of his dashboard, dousing the space in a sultry, wet ambiance as slow, calm music breaks the silence. While it was comfortable for you, now you feel even more at ease and you wiggle in your seat, sinking deeper into the leather. 

Quite useful material for the lecherous saturation of your mind; for the lustful layer of sweat lining your skin. You feel so hot. Feel the need to be ridded of your clothes right now. Feel a certain kind of vivacity that drives you to do things you wouldn’t normally do. 

You take his hand from the shift stick, cradling it with both of your own hands, a finger tracing the veins that paint a slender but a strong temple—a temple for his beauty and character, you suspect. 

“My place,” you say, yearning to make him feel at home in your space; cook for him, make him come, stuff like that.

Green light blinks and Hobi doesn’t withdraw from your hold. No, he tells you what to do, quickly. 

“Keep your hand on mine,” he instructs and you listen, sinking your fingers between his and gripping him like in an effort to grip onto stable submission. “Just like that.” 

Your stomach flips at his choice of praise and you lick your lips, tightening your hold hard enough that he peeks at you with a smirk while he shifts the gear stick with you and speeds down the road. The heat worsens and you don’t think you can take it anymore.

That alone is the most attractive thing you ever experienced with a man. 

And when he plays with your thumb, you can’t help but to squeeze your thighs together. Watch him intently sneak a glance as you do so, knowing your dress has ridden up a little, exposing your tanned thighs, swathed with the brown leather of your boots. Your position also provides him the intriguing reveal of a secret—you’re wearing knee socks underneath. They were invisible to his sight this whole time and now that he sees them, his eyes linger there for a few seconds longer before he drags his teeth along his bottom lip, flicking his gaze back to the road. 

“You’re wearing knee socks under those?” he asks, his voice low and tortured. Doesn’t look at you as he does. Only shifts the gear stick again, stiffly. You imagine something else is stiff, too, and you smile, a tendril of confidence clothing you in allure and sinful, dark joy. It beckons your vivacity to drive forward. 

You move his hand to let the pads of his fingers feel the smooth fabric. His body twitches, his lungs inhaling a short, soft air, mouth parted, eyes unblinking, gloomy just like the heavens above. A thunder sounds and you feel like roaring just the same. 

“It matches my underwear,” you murmur and the thunder prolongs, echoing feebly. You drag his hand down your thigh with the intention to also make him feel the nylon material of your panties, but he halts your movement halfway, hand gripping your flesh, trembling ever so slightly, stirring your confidence. You almost moan at his brusqueness. 

“Don’t,” he scolds, brows furrowing, chest heaving in that slow manner. His lips dry and he wets them. Doesn’t spare you a glance. Turns the wheel with that one hand as he takes a left turn, his posture slouched, thighs spread, a small tent evident in between. His arousal for you grows and it only propels you to finish the job, knowing his scolding was merely a warning, not a portrayal of his discomfort. And he proves you right with his next words. “If you do that, I’ll crash this fucking car.” 

You laugh through your nose, your confidence and your own arousal fluttering in you, begging to be let out. Your favorite artist starts playing and you’re not surprised by the way your body reacts. Your thighs naturally spread and you move your pelvis forward. Feel your slick dampening your panties even more, trickling down your needy seashell just as The Weeknd begins to sing about your desire. 

“I wanna fuck you slow with the lights on…” 

You lick your lips, inhaling deeply and exhaling with a soft moan. Hobi digs his fingernails into your skin, coaxing another one out of you and he calls you by your name in a sterner warning. You caress the edge of his hand with the thought in mind that you’ve always loved the crescent moon, so it would only be illogical for you to not want more of it imprinted on your skin. 

“You shouldn’t praise me then,” you croak out, doused in adrenaline-tinged lust, your sweat heavy upon you. You clutch your cherub necklace, needing to be touched, a habit of yours that you’ve had ever since you were a teenage girl. Your fingers graze your collarbones, lingering in the dip between them. “Besides, you’re such a good driver that I think you can handle it.” 

Hobi hums out an endearing laugh, that smirk of his reappearing on his mouth. He rubs the moons he impressed into your thigh from side to side and your hips buck, asking for that movement down low where you need him the most. 

“You have a praise kink?” he questions and you catch him bite his lip, catch him enjoying that information, sinking it into his flesh. You want to kiss it, bruise it, make it permanent for a little while. You revel in such a dirty, yet gentle conversation and you stop yourself from bucking your hips again. 

“A severe praise kink,” you correct him, emphasizing the adjective with a bit of a bratty tone to divulge to him what he does to you and how much he needs to pay for it. And before you can go on, he catches you off guard. 

“If you want me to keep praising you then rub your clit,” he negotiates with you, taking your hand and moving the gear stick, leaving it there. “And you’re wrong. I can’t handle you like this. I can’t touch you when I’m responsible for your life.” 

Daddy. The title would’ve slipped out of the tip of your tongue had a moan not been first, coating the ambience with a sultriness that makes you tug at his hand in order to do as he says, in order to be praised, to be gratified. But Hobi doesn’t budge. He tightens his grip around the shift stick, clicking his tongue. 

“No, baby. With your other hand,” he orders, his breath shaking and amidst the enveloping of his fatherliness around you, strengthening you and binding you with ropes of safety, girlishness and seductiveness, you scrunch up your brows, wanting his hand to be there when you make yourself feel good. 

And you tell him. 

“I want you to help me.” 

The rain thickens, creating a sensual background noise to the next slow song playing and Hobi sighs, disliking your attitude. Your arousal grows to highs you’ve never seen before, a sweet, pleasing darkness consuming you, sprinkling you with glitters of appetite and craze. 

All because your sexual chemistry is so good, so strong—so natural, despite the fact you just met and don’t know each other enough for it to be possible. It exceeds the laws of human connection and the feeling of it is heady, intoxicating you with wine of the ripest cherries. You even feel as though this is your first alcoholic drink. Feel as though you’re an unspoiled virgin on the cusp of her very first sin—the Virgin Mary with long hair, cherub necklace, tanned skin, knee socks and high-heeled boots. 

Hobi erases your past life. Paints a new one with watercolors; paints you anew. You know the dulcet taste of fatherliness and manliness from Jungkook and while it was what you needed at the time, sexually that is—as it wasn’t often that he used this kind of energy day-to-day, and if he did, it was to tease you—what Hobi does runs deeper. It surpasses your need; it’s not a filling that will decompose soon enough and ask for it again. It’s something else entirely. 

It’s something that falls upon you and stays. Clicks and connects with no way out. It’s another layer of skin, strands of hair growing out of your scalp, the drum of the vein upon your neck. 

It began in the museum and uncoils here. It’s not worth it to juxtapose it with what you had before—it’s laughable to do so. Hobi has established his fatherliness the moment he held your coat as a heathen in a church, not taking his gaze off of your intimate prayers for even a split second. Unkinked it with his honesty and by expressing his responsibility over you, listening to the murmur of the sea of your sexual need but not diving head-first into it, knowing better. And now it is ready to bloom with flowerets, with fruits, with leaves to accompany you. 

“It’s this or nothing,” Hobi decides, squeezing his fingers against yours to also emphasize the gravity of his words and you purse your lips in response, finding the ultimatum so attractive. “You live thirty minutes away, so you either rub your clit on your own or you wait. It’s up to you.” 

It’s mind blowing to you how he went from being timid to now ordering you to pleasure yourself. You’re sweltering beneath your clothes and Hobi notices, looking at your body through his rear view mirror. He turns the heating up and you laugh, blush deepening, eyes crinkling at the corners. Your heart thuds heavily in your chest. 

“Why didn’t you put your seatbelt on?” he mutters, letting go of your hand and giving you a mean look that makes your walls clench and your throat let out a low, almost soundless moan. 

You never put a seatbelt on. As dangerous as it, you hate the way it chokes you due to your small stature and you tell him. “It chokes me, Hobi, I don’t really like it.” 

Hobi doesn’t respond. He reaches over and drags down the seatbelt adjuster without taking his eyes off of the road, driving steadily. His patchouli scent hits your nostrils and you nuzzle your nose into his bicep, fingers curling around his arm, smelling him in a simple, comfortable manner. Hobi gives you a quick smile and you hear the sound of him pulling on the seatbelt, but then a pedestrian runs across the previously empty crosswalk, forcing him to stomp on the brake abruptly and your heart nearly skips out of your chest. Almost flying forward, Hobi holds you in place with his strong arm, which you cradle against your quickening chest. 

Exchanging a look, you both pant in tandem and Hobi shakes his head at you. Panic lines his dark eyelashes and he immediately grabs the seatbelt and, tugging harshly, he sinks it into the buckle, placing the belt behind your back. He doesn’t acknowledge the pedestrian lifting his palm in apology and neither do you, too preoccupied with the fact he just saved your life. 

“You wear a seatbelt in my car. No buts. Understand?” 

Too shocked by the twist of events and too touched by the gesture and the sternness of his words, you nod. He pats your thigh, the one he marked, fondling the skin with his thumb, and it drives you to say something. “I’m sorry, Hobi. I’ll wear the seatbelt from now on.” 

You mean it. This has never happened to you before as you usually take the public transport, but you do understand now how dangerous it is to not wear one. Your heartbeat calms and the aftershocks of the adrenaline come to the surface, scattering along your figure. Numbness melts and your arousal returns at full speed. 

Hobi nods, smiling gently, pleased with your apology, and you feel so peculiarly gratified that you managed to do something like that to him. He sinks his fingers under your thigh and you marvel at the size of his hand because his thumb still remains there on the top of the flesh, even as he wraps his digits around you like that. Kneading just once before he lifts them and begins to tap on his screen again, shifting the energy with the voice of your favorite artist. He moves the gear, accelerating. 

“Why you rushing me, baby? It’s only us, alone,” The Weeknd sings and you sigh, your body loosening up. You hike the seatbelt around your hips higher, curling lower on the leather, thighs parting until your knee taps his hand. You miss his touch and you long for it again, finding its warm ghost on your skin not enough. 

“You like The Weeknd, don’t you?” Hobi says, his pinky finger brushing along your sock-clad knee, causing you to almost twitch. 

You smile, relishing in the love you have for the singer. “I’ve spent ten years of my life loving him.” 

Liking your answer, Hobi skims his fingers along the side of your inner thigh until he finds yours, intertwining them—this time his palm closed over the back of your hand, placing it to its former position on the stick. It’s warmed by him and you love it so much that you search for his thumb, playing with it. 

“I could tell,” he breathes, his tone deepened by a heartfelt emotion that moves through you. You raise your brows in curiosity and question, wondering how that has come to be. Glancing at you to see your reaction, Hobi laughs softly, his heart evident in the sound, coated with it entirely, and you catch his thumb, holding it, on the verge of bursting. “I saw what you did when I put him on.” 

You round the tip of your tongue along your top lip, recollecting well what you did when you heard him. “What did I do?” 

A beat of silence between you and him, he lets the singer sing his elegy. Then, his index finger traces your manicured nail on the same digit. “You spread your legs. Made such a pretty sound that I almost stopped this fucking car and fucked you until the whole city could heard it.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat and you’re too late to halt the moan from slipping out, a fire coursing down from the top of your head to your toes. You want a taste of his desire so bad that you’ll do anything for it. Even let the seatbelt choke you to death. 

Hobi gives you a look, one that chills your blood this time. But it feels absolutely exhilarating.

He calls your name. “Don’t do that to me. Not here.” 

Your breath trembles as you scurry to regain your composure, sliding up in your seat. Hobi, too, stops that movement by cradling your thigh, putting it back to the stick once you get the message. 

Why does this feel better than if he gave in? 

“What if I want to?” you challenge and Hobi rubs his eyes, slapping his hand back onto the steering wheel. Frustration, it looks so good on him. “What if I want you to fuck me here?” 

He shakes his head, just once, biting his lip, reddening the pillow. “No, I don’t share.” 

Fuck. 

This is a point of no return. You will never be the same after what he said and you feel your attachment melting into his chest, dissolving there into leaves from your fruit trees. Your imaginary wings flit, aroused from his possessiveness. 

“You know what to do,” he adds without looking at you, turning up the volume as if to subdue your incoming moans. 

A cherry on the top of the fucking cake. 

You don’t waste a precious second. Lifting the hem of your dress, you expose your drenched panties, a large wet spot in the center darkening the black fabric. Hobi doesn’t spare you a glance. No, he takes your intertwined hands and fixes his rear view mirror, tipping it down. Dangerous, but smart. Responsible. 

It’s those glimmering flecks of his character that drive your fingers to pull your panties to the side, but Hobi, once again, stops you. 

With words, this time. 

“Do you want me to die?” he rasps, tortured—horribly tortured and you cup your femininity, coaxing a groan out of him. “Do it over your panties, baby. Please.” 

He begged. You don’t think you ever heard that word come out of a man’s mouth in your life and you break, whimpering, pulling your panties back in their place over your pussy, dragging the tip of your middle finger up and down your dripping slit, sighing. Adding your index, you put pressure to the sides of your clit as you slide your digits in the same direction, over and over, teasing yourself, breathing out little moans that make him grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. 

Hobi glances once at what you’re doing and swears. “Fuck, rub your clit. Don’t tease yourself, baby. Make yourself feel good.” 

With a mewl, you stick your fingers together and begin a series of circles, doing as he says. Your eyes roll back, head knocking back into the leather, satisfaction seizing your body and sweetening it. The material of your panties is so flimsy that it feels as though your fingers are stroking your bare flesh and when you tug the fabric to your hole to wet it and rub your clit harder, your moans gain volume, mingling with The Weeknd’s poetry seamlessly and magnificently, dethroning the rain. 

And then Hobi shifts the gear stick with your hand and drives so fast that your pleasure deepens, thrill rushing in your veins. You match your circles to that speed, your sounds becoming obnoxious, whiny squeaks when you look at him to see his jaw clenched, chest heaving and the tent in his pants larger than you last checked it. 

Hobi skims his fingers along your forearm, back and forth, cradling it. Senses your stare and reciprocates it, catching you at your best when you find your spot and buck your hips, furrowing your brows. He moans, clutching your thigh. 

“So good. Such a good girl, rubbing her clit for me to get praised. Fuck, baby. You’re doing so good.” 

You lift your fingers in order not to come, the aftershocks of your ripped away orgasm quivering throughout your whole body and you squeeze his hand, letting go—wrapping it around his tent, instead. You figure he deserves it for praising you like that. 

He finds your lidded, mischievous eyes in the rear view mirror and he flattens his lips, a brutal expression on his face that should make you scared, but it doesn’t. It only spurs you on. You graze your palm on him, causing his breath to quicken, and you whimper when you search and search for the tip of his cock. He’s slender, but big and your mouth dries. 

“You almost made me come with what you said,” you say, truthfully, retracing your path down his length, his breath, now hardened, wafting over you. You love the way he focuses on the road with every fiber of his being as you’re toying with him. Love watching him grit his teeth, narrow his eyes; love watching sweat adorn his flushed chest and neck. You ache to bite him there. 

And you would—had he not buckled you in place. 

You don’t notice you’ve arrived at your apartment until he stops the car and turns to face you, leaning his elbow on the center console. Nobody could gaslight you into believing that ride took thirty minutes. Nobody. 

Hobi made that fifteen. Ferally. For you. 

You can see it in his shining face—his need for you, his desire, the fact he sped down the road because you’re so horny. And you ache to kiss him. 

“You really do have a praise kink,” he says, mutedly. Must be thinking the same because his gaze flicks to your lips. You lick them for him, encouraging him to do it. “Almost coming from me praising you. Such a good girl.” 

You hiss, the drum in your clit returning, stealing your attention. Hoseok grins, pleased to be proven right, pleased that you make it so easy for him. You squeeze his length and he makes the same sound, gritting his teeth briefly before he pouts. 

“What’s this?” he asks, speaking of your hand placement. “When did I allow you to do this?” 

You breathe heavily, descending your fingers to his full balls, feeling them perfectly due to the silky fabric of his dress pants. You knead them and he moans, the sound traveling right to your yet again needy bundle of nerves. Your hand automatically flies to it, rubbing it, and Hobi curses, eyes narrowing, fixed on the movement of your fingers. 

“It’s asking for me, isn’t it?” you murmur, sliding your hand back to his manhood and his pools almost go cross, head tilting back. Your pleasure from your motions expands, your nerve endings burning. 

“I’m so hard for you,” he agrees, his hand clasping over yours, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows with great difficulty, the column of his throat such a thing of beauty for you that it forces you to unclip your seatbelt. You’re about to crawl onto his lap, but one darkened look from him makes you decide against it. “Show me that pussy, baby.” 

Your moan has a certain elation to it, giddy at the fact you get to expose such an intimate part of you to him, giddy that he’s taking this to another level. 

You slide your drenched panties to the side and at the sight of your glistening pussy Hobi groans deeply.

“Lean against the door,” he commands, wiping at his mouth and you tremble all over, more than delighted that he’s reacting to you this way. 

You swivel, propping your back against the leather of his door and Hobi lifts your legs, spreading them. You hook one of them around the back of his headrest while the other dangles in his hold. His gaze zeroes in on your pussy and as he bites his lip, he acknowledges himself with her by tracing the flesh with his thumb. Your clit, your lips before he circles your gushing hole, groaning, bettering the song you barely can hear. Your confidence and your allure skyrockets and you follow his digit, riding it, begging for more of his touch. He plays chase with you until both of you and him can’t take it anymore and when his thumb is completely soaked, he lifts it to your mouth—only to fuck with you, though, because he plunges it inside his, leaving your own parted for nothing. 

You’re embarrassed, but he likes it. Whimpers around his finger. Pushes your knee to your shoulders and dives right in. 

You yelp, grabbing a hold of his hair as he licks over your clit, closing his lips over it and sucking until your eyes roll back, until all your still parted mouth knows is his name and your thick heel digs into his shoulder. 

But you moan the wrong variation and he’s quick to correct you with a dripping chin, his hands on either side of you, face merely inches away from yours. “That’s Hoseok for you, not Hobi.” 

Red all over, you can only moan in response, gripping his hair until he hisses in pain. He strums your clit without breaking eye contact, so slippery and swollen from his attack. The orchard in you grows, brims with fruit that is on the cusp of bursting, the berries in you big and full. His eyes narrow furthermore, pupils dilated, causing his gaze to darken in ways you’ve never thought could be possible. 

“Moan my name, baby. Show me how good I’m making you feel.” 

The wrong variation slips again, all due to the mind numbing pleasure he’s giving you. He adds more pressure to his fingers for a second before he withdraws and slaps your thigh. And slaps it again. 

“I can’t praise you if you don’t learn well, can I?” he mutters and you whine so loudly that his eyes round, body growing boneless. “Fuck, baby, if you keep making sounds like that I’m gonna come in my pants.” 

You scramble your words, find it the most difficult thing in the world. And he doesn’t help you. Not when he sinks a long finger inside your heat, fucking you slowly until you can take him. You lose your mind altogether. 

“You’re making me feel too-too good,” you breathe out, hiccuping as he adds a second finger in, silencing you when he gives you long strokes. You follow his gaze down and perceive that he’s watching you soak his digits. He twists them, moaning, a litany of mad, mad curses falling out of his mouth in a hushed tone. 

“So wet just from me praising you, oh my God,” Hobi comments and you squeeze your eyes shut, taking it as he begins to pound you to the hilt, his arm bulging, his whole body moving. “Eyes on me. What do you call me when I make you feel this good, hm? I already told you. Just remember.” 

You know which variation he means and wants to hear, but your tongue curls, aching to utter a different name that he deserves to be called by. 

And you say it, opening your eyes and boring them into his. “Daddy.” 

And you don’t stop saying it. Not when he closes his eyes for a split second, agonized by such saccharinity. Not when he undoes the button of his pants and pulls himself out while thumbing your clit. You gasp, legs quivering, what you touched brought to reality and your orgasm nears, especially when he fist-fucks his length. 

Hoseok draws back down to your clit, licking it over, nuzzling his face in it as he drinks your nectar right from the source, his wet fingers from you making squeaky sounds around his girth, causing you to scream, the intensity of the moment running so deep and you’re too weak to take it, overwhelmed by his arousal. 

He lifts his head for a moment. “I want you to call me Daddy when you come on my tongue,” he rasps amidst his growls, never stopping the movement around his cock, and you nod your head, vehemently, willing to do anything for him.

“I’m so close.” 

Hoseok pouts. “That’s so good, baby. You know what to do?” 

You swallow. “I’m gonna call you Daddy when I come.” 

He grins at you and the expression breaks when he fucks his tip, his brows casting a shadow on his face. You break along with it, shuddering—pleasured from watching him pleasure himself. And you break again when he praises you for your good answer. “Such a good girl. You’re gonna come hard for me?” 

You don’t get to say your yes because when he sucks your clit into his mouth and groans against it as he flicks it with his tongue, he’s a witness to it himself. The fruits in your orchard explode and he drinks their juices, running the muscle all over your pussy, his mouth smacking, enjoying every drop. You squeal the title, forcing pleased growls out of him that deepen when you swear, repeating the name over and over again until your orgasm smooths down the perimeters of your body, slowly dwindling away.  

You can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t see. White dots flood your vision and the only thing that grounds you is Hobi taking your hand in his. The dots swim away, revealing him on the verge of his own orgasm as he tugs on his length, rapidly now. 

“That was so good, baby. You came so well for me. Called me Daddy like I wanted. Good girl,” he praises and your moans are an endless stream, enveloping around his cock, which he guides your hand towards. The weight of it, his warmth, the protruding veins, you could come again just from the feel of him. “Jerk off your Daddy. He’s close, too, from the way you came for him.” 

The third person, fuck. You bite your lip, focusing on his tip as you grip him, twisting your wrist. His skin is sticky from your nectar and you spit onto your hand, earning a praise from him that makes your mind spin, even though you heard those two words plenty of times throughout your sinful date. 

It will never get old—it will only make your femininity wetter for him. 

And his growls, the same could be applied to them. They propel you to fuck him faster while your fingers sneak over to your sensitive clit that he provokes, rubbing circles that cloud your vision with a mist, painting him to be an angel—like the one you saw in the museum. 

And when he comes, he grows a pair of glorious wings. Black, with hints of rose gold and pinks. His body doubles over, hands propped on the dashboard and the passenger seat as he spills for you, ropes of cum painting your stomach in that eternal ivory color that serves as skin for those sculptures. In a way you become them once he praises you for making him come, his breaths a legato rivulet that gives you life, his hips snapping, fucking your hand. 

He smears his cum on your tanned stomach, fingers dipping below the waistband of your panties to discover a lighter shade of skin, marveling at the difference. Light passes through his eyes before he covers your pussy with the fabric, opening the glove department to fetch some tissues, cleaning you up, dragging down your dress and helping you sit up.

It’s at this moment, as he’s kneeling—towering over you and you’re sitting on your bum with your hands folded on your lap like the good girl he made you into, that he clutches the back of your neck and smashes his mouth into yours, moving it against you with such strength and vigor that you struggle to devour him in the same manner. It causes you to claw at his sides, to long to see his body in its full, bare beauty. His imaginary wings wrap around you, sealing the resplendence of your orgasm profoundly inside your skin and when he tastes you, his growls traveling down your throat are the raindrops that the orchard inside you needs in order to grow. You help him by moaning back, the aftertaste of you the sunlight. 

Piercing his gaze into yours, he caresses your hair, messes up your diligently fixed updo. Catches your ribbon as it falls, wrapping it around his hand, the wisps dangling from his fingers like your leg was just a few moments ago. 

You’re so satisfied that you could cry. 

You don’t even understand what just happened and how it came to be. Don’t remember what occurred before you sat down in his car—Hobi has completely and wholly erased it. 

And it’s him who notices that your hand still carries the remnants of him. You don’t care to look—you can’t rip your gaze away from the shine on his face, from the gratification smoothing out his features, from the pink flush decorating the perfect redness of his swollen lips. But Hobi forces you to, in the tenderest of ways. Looks lovingly at your palm, cooing, shooting that look into your eyes, where it unfolds, creates something new that you never experienced before. And when he grins, your stomach flips, winged creatures intoxicated with madness inside. 

“You see what you did?” he whispers, the love in his eyes expanding, growing warmer, burning you faintly. “I want you to lick it up. You deserve every drop.” The breath you let out causes him to tremble and you cradle the fabric of his shirt in your fist. Hobi kisses your fingers, looking at you through them, his smile quivering. “Stick out your tongue for me, baby.” 

You do and he slides your palm over it, his salty nectar the sea that swam against your body a week ago in your healing time and you moan, devouring his taste like he devoured your mouth, licking it up, collecting it until there’s nothing left. You show him your tongue, then, and Hobi plays with it, using his thumb, your ribbon wrapped around his hand tickling your chin. He rubs it on the muscle, playing chase with you again until he tells you to suck it. And the sound that descends from his lips once you do makes you squeeze your thighs together, your own wetness dripping out of you. 

To end it, Hobi kisses your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds longer. Caresses your mouth, tracing each line, tracing your cupid’s bow, making you glisten with your own saliva. A shining, lively angel—just like him. You whimper. 

“Swallow it, baby.” 

You do, showing him the evidence that you obeyed after. 

“Good girl.” 

You take the underside of him, semi hard, into your hand, giggling, heart thumping. “You just made me horny all over again.”

Hobi hums, brushing his ribbon-clad fingers through your hair from the crown of your head. You want him to do that once you suck him off. “And you’re gonna make me hard all over again if you touch me like that.” 

You mimic the noise he made, squeezing him. Hobi curses, delighting you. “Let’s go inside. I owe you that breakfast, don’t I?” 

He kisses you, softly, with a hint of harshness that causes your nipples to harden painfully against your bra. You almost rub your clit again, so fucking out of it, crazed. 

“You do, baby.” 

You got everything you wanted in such a small amount of time that your vision twirls. Hobi is holding your hand as you’re leading him to your apartment, your ribbon still hanging from yours and his intertwinement, and your heart hasn’t stopped beating feverishly in your chest. Not even once. 

You’re facing the inevitable as you watch Hobi unlace his dress shoes on his knee, his cock stiff and uncomfortable in his pants. You’re brazenly falling for him. You know your hormones swirling your system from the lustfulness you indulged in aren’t to blame—if there’s anyone to blame, then it’s Hobi himself. You consider him to be such a beautiful person that you would be absolutely stupid, blind and deaf not to fall for him. And what’s more, you sense your decline to be safe. Stable. A leverage that won’t ever break. A ribbon that won’t fray. 

It’s as strange as it is inviting and your submission comes naturally to you. And this time, you don’t fear it won’t last. Don’t fear you’ll let up. There’s a sense vibrating in you that assures you that Hobi will take care of it. Put it back where it belongs if it ever strays. You don’t have to monitor it. You don’t have to do shit. 

You were wrong about one more thing. Hobi isn’t Daddy. 

He’s Father. 

It’s this thought that drives you to take off your dress and leave it in the middle of the floor that leads to your kitchen. You’re barren down to your soaked underwear, bra and knee socks, your feet basking in the way they don’t have to ache in your boots anymore. Pulling a plate of eggs out of the refrigerator, you set it on the counter, preparing a pan by oiling it on the stove. You hear Hobi’s feet pad on the floor as you pop some bread in the toaster and you turn your head, seeing only his dark silhouette standing behind you, your dress and your ribbon in his hands. 

Your heart quickens, abnormally. 

“How do you like your eggs?” you ask, resuming your cooking as you break the shell of an egg on the lip of the pan, spilling the delight into the bubbling oil. 

Hobi crosses the distance and you can only feel the softness of your ribbon when he places his hands on your hips, letting them travel until they stumble across the pooch of your lower belly. He groans, holding you there, pressing his hard, silk-clad cock against your nearly bare bum. 

Self-consciousness creeps in as he kneads one of your insecurities and you quiver, clasping your hand over his, your confidence wavering. 

“However you like them is how I like them,” Hobi flirts and you laugh through your nose, shaking your head, waiting for the egg white to fade into that milky color he painted your stomach with. 

Sunny side up it is. 

“Hobi, your game is out of this world,” you flirt back, sliding your spatula under the egg to check if it’s done before you can flip it. 

Hobi lowers himself onto his knees and you gasp, soundlessly. He begins to scatter violent kisses along the dots upon the flesh of your bum, sucking it into his mouth as if it were an orange he was sinking his teeth into. You have to grip the counter in order not to fall over, willing strength into your weakened legs. 

He bites the supple roundness of your ass cheek, smoothing out the pain with a flick of his tongue and kisses, gentle ones this time around. Hums. “Is it?” 

He glides his nose along the inner of your thigh, rooting right in the center of your pussy, burying his face there. You turn around halfway, arching your back, latching onto his hair that you’ve ruined, egg long forgotten. 

“Your thighs are wet again, fuck,” he whispers, mouthing your clit before he descends once again to them, licking them over, drinking your nectar that he’s created. Trails his tongue back up and, sliding your panties to the side, he takes you into his mouth, growling as he sucks onto your lips, playing with them using his tongue, hands spreading your ass cheeks, so he can have more space to make you absolutely lose yourself in him. 

And it’s working. Even more so when he begins to swirl his tongue around that other, tiny hole, causing your eyes to go cross before they roll back. Your head dips into a dreamy daze, where time doesn’t exist as he switches between flicking your clit and eating your ass and it isn’t until a certain burning smell suffuses your nostrils that you snap out of it. 

You’ve burned his egg, its edges black like the feathers of his imaginary wings, and you yelp, turning off the stove, pushing the pan away. 

“Hobi, I burned your egg,” you exclaim and he bends you over the counter while still remaining on his knees for you, sucking your clit with all the strength he possesses. Your climax pinches you in warning, lovingly, promising to melt over you like rain soon, so very soon. 

Hobi doesn’t give a fuck about his egg, it seems. 

“Just a little more, please,” he begs, moving his flat tongue from side to side on your bud, hands descending down your wet thighs until he reaches your knee socks, stopping there. Whimpers. 

That would’ve thrown you over the edge had he not pulled away, fingers wrapping around your knees. 

You turn around and the sight of him on his knees with his glazed nose, mouth and chin, with his cock pitifully erect in his pants, creating a print that makes you salivate, absolutely and irrevocably breaks you. You can still hear his plea ring in your mind, begging you to give him a few more seconds of your pussy, and your brain malfunctions. Numbness tightens around your fingers when you cradle his face and it feels so real when you do so—the fact that you’re wanted, desired; the fact that Hobi is the one in submission to you, dominant yet attentive to you to the point that he would never want do anything you wouldn’t. He listens to you, carves his life around you… and he hasn’t even known you for a month. 

You messed up his hair—and when you run your fingers through his strands, you feel your powerful ruination sifting through them, feel your seduction and your confidence, alive and breathing in that thick, dark brown mop of his. And now you crave to mess up his skin. Bruise it. Stain it with the pinks you can see in his imaginary wings. Watch them turn yellow like the rose gold in their flecks over the following days. 

You’re not letting go of him. 

Not when he looks at you like you’re Virgin Mary and he’s a sinner. 

You pull him up by the collars of his shirt, wrinkling the fabric, adding to the ruination, and it’s electrifying. He’s the cleanest sinner you’ve ever had the grace to see and you want to stain him. Beyond the stickiness of your juices. And when he towers over you and cages you in between his buff body and the counter, hands on either side of you upon the marble, his patchouli scent making you bloodthirsty, you don’t kiss him. No, you go straight for his neck. 

He didn’t expect it, groaning when you lick a stripe over his vein, sucking the skin inside your mouth. Over and over again until the sucking noises make him twitch and fist the ends of your hair, pressing his cock against your stomach. You’re feral, you’re inhuman, scattering kisses along that column like you’ve never had a man in your hands before. And it’s true. You never have. It was always you who had been in men’s hands. Never the other way around. 

Your fingers gain feeling when you undo the buttons of his shirt, ripping some of them, secretly preventing him from going to work after you’re finished with him. Unless you plaster your correcting concealers on him, he really can’t step a foot outside. The bruise you left on his column is huge, purply red, and the only thing it’s missing is bite marks. A joy rotates in you, rooting from the fact that you’re changing his plans, that you have an effect on him, and you unfold that emotion when you tug that shirt down his broad shoulders and press a kiss in the middle of his chest. 

But then Hobi grips your hair on the crown on your head, making you look at him. 

And you can’t explain it to yourself, why you like being manhandled like that, despite the freedom you just experienced. Like a child, whose father let her run free before he scolded her and told her to stop, for she ran for too long and it’s getting cold. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, lowly, and the tone etches itself onto your own throat because your answer is ready on the tip of your tongue, unabashed, dirty, throbbing.

“I need you to fuck me.” 

Hobi blinks, his brows rising, a light like a comet shooting past his irises before an unbounded, starless night shrouds them. 

You’ve done it. You’ve stained him. Now he needs to come all over you. Make a mess. Paint you again. 

He slackens his hold on your hair. Runs his hand down the length. “If I fuck you, I’ll breed you.” Curls his hand around your throat, where those words form a new necklace, plated with that rose gold. Your mouth parts, a moan falling past, your nectar in tandem, mind dizzy from the idea of being stuffed full of his cum. He flattens his palm over your sternum, hooks his fingers over the band of your bra in the middle of your breasts. You hope he chisels the lines of his hand into your skin. You want to wear him. “Are you on birth control?” 

You stopped taking it the moment you were broken up with. Didn’t think you’d need it so soon. Didn’t think you’d have a man in your life again, let alone sleep with him. 

Your body desires to please Hoseok so resolutely that a wisp of your regret swathes around his wrist—regret that you threw away those pills that are the driving force in his sexuality. He might have been okay with not taking this any further, but you’re not. You’re far, far from okay. 

You want to be bred. You want to be bred so much that you could cry. 

Your mouth pouts, but your sadness doesn’t touch your seduction. It merely heightens it. 

“You have a breeding kink?” you ask, mimicking his former words, causing him to drag his tongue over his lips slowly, divulging his arousal. It’s another tree that begins to grow in your orchard, planted by your bare hands. A cherry tree, its pink flowerets the flush that spreads across his prominent pecs. You want to make them shiny with your tongue. 

And you do. 

You place wet kisses over the underside of his left pec, nibbling on the skin, your small stature making it easy for you. Hobi inhales a sharp breath, sneaking his fingers under the cup of your bra, grasping your breast, squeezing until you whimper. 

“A severe breeding kink,” Hoseok corrects you, just like you did in his car. He pulls down your bra straps, his hand quick to undo the clasp on your back, disposing you of the undergarment, dropping it onto the ground. Gooseflesh spreads across your skin and you let him feel it, let him feel the effect he has on you by pressing yourself against him, twisting your arms around his torso. 

A tender hug, in the middle of a bonding moment. You’d be so happy, you’d laugh, you’d skip, if you had never thrown away those pills.

You wonder if he feels the drum of your heart, if he feels how it’s creating a brand new music that no human, no celestial being has ever heard before. 

“I stopped taking birth control several weeks ago, Hobi,” you say, your regret and your sadness lowering your tone. Hobi coos and it makes you want to sob. “Did you bring a condom?” 

He caresses your bare back, your hair a stream of a waterfall that he parts with his hand. “No, I didn’t expect this to happen.” 

You do the same for him, burying your face deeper into his chest, perceiving that you’re embracing a pure angel. You engrave patterns into his skin, feathers of wings that are dripping with the fire of stars. Even though you’re dying to get fucked, this tenderness is, little by little, appeasing your darkness in a way you don’t really understand. 

“We don’t have to do anything. I can make you come with my mouth again,” Hobi says, drifting his nails along the perimeter of your shoulder blade while his other hand grips your waist. The memory of the moons to the sky you paint on his back.

You lift your head. Meet the gray clouds in his eyes. “You want to breed me that bad?” 

A smile curls one end of his mouth. “It’s what you deserve.” 

The same smile finds a way to your mouth, then blossoms into a grin, your heart a heavy music, and you press it into the middle of his chest. Bite him there, his growls another instrument in the song. He clutches the hair at the nape of your neck, coaxing out a similar sound, your darkness a wave that ebbs to and fro. 

“Put it in my ass, then.” 

Hobi calls you by your name, sternly. 

“What?” 

He sighs. “You want to get fucked in your ass on the first date?” 

You don’t know what part of his sentence makes you hiccup. Whether it’s his purity, the fact that such an angel voiced out that lewd desire of yours and didn’t jump head-first into its sea—or whether he acknowledged, once again, that this is a date. Hobi laughs, endearingly, and you blush. He kisses your cheek, lifting your chin, placing a chaste kiss onto your lips and you could die right now and know you’ll be entering the pearly gates. He’s saved a spot for you there, negotiated with God that you’ll spend your eternity there like the businessman he is. 

It’s what propels you to get on your knees. 

“Baby.” 

And it’s him stopping you each time you want more that makes you fall for him harder. 

“You’re so good to me, Hoseok, I can’t help it. I want to give back to you as much as I can.” 

He utters a low, deep curse, tipping up his chin as he cradles your face in both hands. Helps you stand to your feet, kisses you with something that doesn’t resemble the chastity of before and you moan into his mouth, digging moons into his back. You press your pelvis against his thighs, frustrated that you can’t reach his manhood and Hobi hears you, lifts you up and you wrap your legs around him, grinding your femininity against his manliness, squeaking the same curses down his throat. 

“Fuck, baby, grind that pussy on me like that. Just like that, yes. You learn well, don’t you? You’re such a good girl, you just need to get fucked, don’t you, baby?” 

You agree with every word, your expression of pleasure saying the words for you, and Hobi moans, pushing your hips down on him while he meets you each time. 

“Where’s your bedroom, baby?” 

“Down the hall. First door to the right.” 

You suck on his neck as he takes you there, plopping you down onto the edge of your bed. You watch your hands undo the button of his pants, but then he accidentally kicks into something and you know exactly what it is. 

An orange Nike box filled with the two toys you own. 

And Hobi wouldn’t have crouched to get it had you not started giggling. 

How thrilling it is—to see him holding something so private, something no one has ever seen before. 

He palms his cock once he discovers what’s inside, rolling his eyes back. He throws the box next to you on the mattress, pushing you back and ripping your panties out of your body in a split second. Your giggles die, replaced by whimpers, replaced by the beat of your clit and his vulgarities as he pins your knees down, gazing, lovingly, at the way your nectar trickles down to your other hole. He bends to lick it up and you die, too. 

“Naughty fucking girl. How can you be so naughty and so good at the same time? You’re making me lose my mind,” Hobi snarls, putting his entire weight into the back of your knees and you gush for him, gasping, not able to take his praise, your hips instinctually raising for more of his tongue, which he slaps your thigh for. Once, twice, three times, four times until you whimper so loudly that there’s nothing else left for him to do but let up, grab your pink hitachi and lay down on his back, guide you to sit on his face. 

It’s now that he takes the time to ogle your body. His night-tinged eyes glide along your tan lines, his fingers tracing them, making you shudder and rotate your hips above his mouth that he wets and keeps wetting as if it’s not enough to quench his thirst. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he chokes out, brushing the pads of his fingers along your stiffened nipples. Fireworks shoot out above your orchard, casting a rainbow of colors upon the trees and bushes. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you to have you like this. You belong to that museum, baby, but I’d die if someone were to look at you in my place.” 

His possessiveness coated with so much affection and admiration for you elongate your imaginary wings. And you can’t halt the rounding of your mouth, the pool of tears that line your eyes, the cracking of your heart as you take in his precious words. You feel like flying; you feel like soaring free with the knowledge that with the two beats of his own wings he’ll catch up to you, fly with you like two doves. 

You want to kiss him. Pay your gratitude that way and when you begin to crawl down his body, he stops you by grabbing your waist, immobilizing you above his face. 

“Stay where you are. You’re not sitting on my cock until you come on my tongue. Is that what you want? Ride Daddy’s cock until he covers you with his cum?” 

You can’t take it anymore. You simply can’t. 

Hobi turns the vibrator to life and its buzzing sound makes you quiver. You lower yourself onto his mouth that he quickly opens for you, darting out his tongue. He lets you ride the muscle, guiding your hips to twirl in circles, and you hold onto your breasts for emotional support as you sense yourself slowly disappearing in him, in the pleasure he gives you, in his warm, dark aura. 

Your mouth has no lock, no force to stop it from speaking. 

“I was wrong, Hoseok,” you start, changing the direction—swinging your hips back and forth as you grab onto his hair with one hand while the other stimulates your nipple, making you pant, whine and so terribly out of it. “It’s not your game that’s out of this world. It’s your fucking dirty talk.” 

Hobi hums, flicking your hand away and pinching your nipple, causing you to tip your head back and pour more vigor into your movement, his mouth too busy to respond. 

“If you ever talk to anyone like this that’s not me, I’ll kill her, you hear me? She won’t live to see the next day.” 

It’s Hobi now that can’t seem to take it anymore. 

Holding you steady by the waist, he sits up, sucking on your clit with so much strength that you scream, your body shuttering so violently that you completely lose yourself. He throws you onto your pillows, raises your hips until they’re at level with his mouth and finishes his fucking job. Alternates between sucking and licking, stars flooding your vision, the ones you traced on his beautiful, broad back. 

You come and you don’t stop. 

Hobi spits on your clit and presses down the hitachi on it, moving it from side to side, your orgasm prolonging, reaching highs beyond the heavenly kind and all you can see is him, doused in colors that glimmer and his name, the right variation of it this time, falls from your lips like a prayer. Right variation, right prayer. 

Virgin Mary that is looking at her God. 

Setting the toy and your bum on the bed, he takes both of your hands into his fist as you’re still convulsing, in the middle of your undying orgasm. He lines his cock at your entrance, changes his mind last minute, and glides it along your sensitive pussy, holding himself at the base. Back and forth, the ebb and the flow of the sea. The sight does anything but calm you down. It supports the continuation of your orgasm. 

“Listen to me very carefully,” he whispers, lowering your hands to his manhood until they wrap around him. “This cock has been yours the moment you came out of this fucking building to meet me outside. Every ridge, every fucking vein is yours.” He squeezes your hold against him, moving it up and down in an agonizing way that makes him shudder just the same. God at a very breaking point. “And these—” He groans as he uses your hands to cup his balls. “These fucking kids are all yours. Yours to swallow. Yours to decorate this beautiful body with. Yours to stuff your little hole with.” Your chest doesn’t rise with any inhalation of breath. You’re motionless, bloodless, paralyzed through and through. Scorching to the touch. Horny beyond your senses. Hobi pins your hands above your head, lining himself up, at last, at your entrance. Sinks inside you in one swift, but vigorous motion until he’s buried in deep to the hilt and he consumes your scream, kissing you so hard that he sucks every last drop of life you had in you. Then, he nudges his nose against yours, kissing its tip as well. “So don’t think for a second that these eyes are for anyone else but you.” A brutal thrust. A yelp. A loss of time and surroundings. “I’m yours, pup. I’m fucking yours.” A mad, mad laughter. “I’ve known you for a week. Ate your pussy first before I kissed you. And you touched yourself in my fucking car because you got horny from the way I praised you in that museum. How could I not be yours?”

The pet name, the magnificence of his sonnet, the stillness of his cock as you clench around him—the very cozy feeling of him being at home, being at the mountain of Athos that you blessed. You feel so small beneath him, so taken care of—and you’re at loss for words, though only one remains in your otherwise erased vocabulary, and from the top of your lungs, you utter it.

“Daddy.” 

His imaginary wings flutter, the pink swelling over the black, and he growls, letting go of your hands and folding you in half, leaning his weight on the back of your thighs. Props an overlapped pillow beneath your bum, so you’re at the perfect level for him to start fucking you properly.

And he does, coaxing out your screams, causing your legs to shake on either side of his shoulders. 

“That’s right, pup. I’m your Daddy. You’re doing so good, screaming for me the way I like it.” 

Hobi pounds into you, giving you a half of his length that’s more than enough. Bends at the waist to scatter wet kisses along the back of your thigh, filling you to the hilt as he does so, your juices squelching around him, making such a serene, glorious sound that forces him to bite down hard onto your flesh. No alleviation after, just long and ruthless strokes while he stares down at you, eating you with his eyes. The ghost of the pain lingers, adding to the experience, adding volume to your whiny noises. 

“You’re taking it so well. You’re a good pup, aren’t you?” 

You sob, the pressure gyrating deep in your lower tummy, the pet name the thing that will throw you over the edge if he calls you by it again. “Yes, Daddy. I love it when you call me that.” 

A hum. “Oh, yeah?” 

There he fucking goes again. 

A dam rushes to break and you’re defenseless.

“Yeah, I love it so much that it’s gonna make me come.” 

Hobi sucks in a breath. “Tell me you’re my good little pup and I’ll let you come.” The same breath he inhaled lodges in your throat and you watch him with a blurry vision reach over for your hitachi and turn up the intensity until the vibrations are so loud that you hear them echoing within your headspace.

He fucks you faster, ridding you of any chance to speak. Teases you with the toy by placing it, barely, on your stiffened nipple, leaning over to moisten it with his tongue before doing it again. And you can’t stop it and neither can he, the way your orgasm overtakes your whole being. It’s at this moment, when he thrusts become sloppy, that you manage to croak out the words he wanted you to say. 

“I’m your good little pup, Hoseok, oh fuck, yes, yes,” you whisper, your sentence blending into an efflux of legato moans—and this, this is his very undoing. 

And Hobi does something you didn’t expect him to do. 

As colors burst in your perspective and your orgasm drags you under, he stimulates your clit with the toy, pulling out of you and pressing his tip against its vibrating side, growling so deeply that it forces your juices out of you, sprinkling him with its iridescent drops as he tugs at his length. He paints your stomach, paints the hitachi, his nectar so enormous that it lands upon your breasts, even as far as on your neck. His body glistens in sweat and now your essence—and looking at him with your hazy vision, another orgasm rolls in. 

You thrash your body so hard he has to pin you down, ripping the pillow out from behind you, laying down his weight on you. He kisses you and the lip lock lasts, seemingly, for a century. He moves his mouth against yours, basking in the feel of your puffy mouth as he alters between kissing you harshly and kissing you gently, getting to know you this way. 

And when he lets up to breathe, he brushes your hair away, flings the vibrator out until it falls off the bed. 

“Say it again,” Hobi says, affection flashing in his now rounded eyes, its warmth thumping. “Louder, for me.” 

Your throat is dry, but you manage to do it with a sleepy smile. Think you would do anything to please him. “I’m your good little pup.” 

Cupping your face, he kisses you with such tenderness that you begin to cry. Your tears soak his cheeks and he whimpers into your mouth, moved just the same by the depth, the vibrancy of the energy thickening between you. 

And when he looks at you, his own tears rush in his waterline. 

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, pausing for a second. “What have you done to me?”

When afternoon rolls in, Hobi is still tangled up in your sheets. You brought him breakfast to bed, one you didn’t burn this time, while he rested, naked and gratified, still flushed in pink, but clean from your shower. His patchouli scent intermingled with your body wash, cinnamon and lemon, concocting something intoxicating in you that made you see him with a halo above his head. He became a saint by giving in to his desires, by coming so hard that you still feel his hot ropes of cum singeing all those sensitive, intimate parts of your body. Hobi took his time tracing and smearing each and every drop, rubbing it deep in you as if he was digging a grave for your past. And you watched him do it, with tear-stained cheeks, acknowledging yourself, just as intimately, with the information that this is something Hobi likes to do.

You plan to put that into practice the next time you get to touch him. 

He’s grazing his fingers along your arm as you’re laying halfway on your side, halfway on him, your leg in between his. Seems to be lost in thought, seems to be searching for his words when he widens his travel across your body, going as far as to the peaks of your shoulder blades before returning back. You feel an inkling to help him, feel like it’s the least you can do. 

“What are you thinking about?” you try, dragging a finger across his collarbone. Hobi sighs, so terribly reactive to your touch, your head lifting in such a calming manner as he breathes in and out. 

“Did I scare you with what I said?”

His heart under your ear begins to hammer and right away you understand the gravity of his question. He’s lost himself in a flashback of today’s sinful events, but stumbled across a high, overpowering mountain of his bared emotions—the blessed mountain of Athos. And it seems as though he’s forgotten the way back, the trees around him growing dense, the trees of panic that whisper to him that, maybe, he made a mistake. 

You hope, with every fiber of your being, that he doesn’t regret those words of beauty that have come to live under your skin like planets in the universe that you and he have created. 

That would ruin you. That would break you—and not in the pleasant kind that you like. That universe would drop upon you and you don’t think you’re strong enough to pick up your own half of your creation, shake it off and learn to live again. 

You straddle him and he covers you with your duvet. Not your naked breasts, but your torso, inviting you into that island. You thought he did to prevent distraction from weakening his focus, but he doesn’t regard your body like that—doesn’t regard it as an instrument of lust. Something about that moves you, enough for you to take his hands, your thumbs in the middle of his palms, and spatter your soft kisses on them. On his fingers, his knuckles. And when you reach the back of his hand, you halt, boring your gaze into his, catching that comet flying past his eyes again and staying this time, staying in the glint that appears as his brown pools wet. 

“Your words mean a lot to me. I carry them in my heart. You know that poem?” 

Hobi shakes his head, flattening his lips, closing his eyes for a brief moment. 

You don’t mind. You’re delighted to enlighten him. 

“I carry your heart with me,” you recite, keeping the heel of his palm against your lips. “I carry it in my heart. I am never without it. Anywhere I go, you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling,” you finish the first stanza of the poem that has not left your bloodstream ever since you were a teenage girl. Sharing that with him brings out a sea of feelings you remember your past self invariably longed to swim in. Tenderness, closeness, passion. Having it now feels as though you’ve passed a milestone. Hobi’s halo flashes with a rosy pink hue and your softened heart constricts. “The things you said were my doing, Hobi.” 

He caresses your side, starting from your armpit, going down the side of your breast, your waist until he arrives at the fleshy part of your hip, which he grasps. His chin quivers as he opens his mouth to speak and a lump forms in your throat. 

“You’re a poem, pup,” he whispers, circling his thumb over your tummy. “You don’t mind that I said those things?” 

You kiss his hands again, upon the same places to make your affection last longer on his skin. Your clit awakens at the pet name and naturally, you scooch over until you’re sat on his soft manhood over the duvet and you begin to move your hips back and forth. Hobi hisses, but doesn’t stop you this time. Lets you do what you want in the safety you conjured around him. 

“Say them again.” 

You speed up your movement. 

Hobi moans. Pauses. Swallows. Thinks. “I’m yours.” 

You grind harder in reward, moaning with him, feeling him stiffen under your clit, feeling him comprehend that you love those declarations. 

“My cock is yours,” he breathes out, his other hand joining the other and gripping your hip, digging in his nails. Another half moons, another beauty, intensifying the pleasure. You lick your fingertips and pinch your nipples. Hobi shudders, visibly, underneath you. “If you keep this up, I’m gonna have to cancel my work meeting.” 

You laugh, meekly but seductively, prolonging your thrusts, slowing them down, coaxing pained groans out of him. A delight. “Who said I wanted you to go?” 

Hobi curses, switching places with you on a whim that surprises you, bends you over, arches your back by lifting your bum in the air. The duvet falls, sadly, off of the mattress—and your soul, for him, falls equivalently. 

He slaps the side of your thigh. One, twice, thrice. “Who’s pussy is this?” 

You long to see him, your soul begs for it. Whispers to you to grab your phone and you do, swiping your finger on the screen and angling it so your camera has a blissful view of him. Of him fixed, darkly, on your ass and your femininity in the middle. 

Curious to know what’s taking you so long to answer, his brows rise as he discovers what you’re doing and he bites his lip, pulls on your legs to straighten them and you plop down on the mattress with a loosened breath. He gets in the same position. Licks over the swell of your ass cheek. 

“Film it. Film yourself telling me who’s pussy this is,” Hoseok commands and in a millisecond, without a thought spared, you click on the red button, excitement tingling your nerves. 

“My pussy is yours, Hoseok.” 

His eyes flick to the camera, meeting your stare, and your breath hitches, the view so attractive as he mouths that skin, marking it. He sneaks a hand to your clit, lifting his body a little, and spanks the spot he bruised. You gasp, elated, humming in a high-pitched tone, causing him to smirk. 

“Ride my hand. Whose pussy is this, baby, hm?” 

You snap your hips, furrowing your brows at the faint pleasure, at the desperation that courses through your veins. 

“Yours, Hoseok, ah, fuck. I want you inside me, please.” 

And he takes you, right there on camera, from behind—immortalizing your inside joke as you and him mention it and laugh about it together, immortalizing the way he paints your wings that ivory color and the way he rubs it in, sinking it deep within its membrane. 

And when you’re so spent that you can’t keep your eyes open and Hobi is drifting his mouth over your breasts, he tells you to send it to him. And with one cracked open, you do. 

It’s later in the evening that you find out that it wasn’t Hobi you sent that video to and your blood freezes. 

Your phone rings and Jungkook’s picture fills the screen. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah, @fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist | READ part one

[writervaul-t]

something about you

chapter five: burned trust

summary: benji says the wrong things but tries to amend it that same night. [name] gets cornered with questions and finds a newfound confidence with her relationship with benji.

pairing: modern!benjicot blackwood x f!reader

note: you guys are so cute when i see the comments 😭❤️ thanks for loving something about you as much as i do (also thank you kieran burton for confirming you are in fact tall 🤞). also football = soccer here guys hehe.

if i missed you to be added to the taglist, please go to my asks!! i don't see comments often so let me know on there just in case :)

masterlist | playlist

Just as predicted, Chiara was in the throes of her hangover by the time [Name] had woken up. Kermit (who she later was able to establish as the calmer of the two Tullys) had been handing her a water while Oscar and Benji were in the kitchen, cooking pancakes and cutting fruit.

"The world is upside down and inside out." Chiara says out loud.

"How much did you drink?" Kermit questions, only earning a groan from Chiara as a response.

[Name] is the one to respond, "Enough for her to forget that Chemistry exam."

"What exam?"

Kermit and [Name] exchange a grin. "Told you."

Once she reaches the first floor, she makes her way over to Chiara, checking on her friend. She looked worse than she most likely felt, with her hair pulled into all kinds of knots and volume.

Chiara seemed to have been pulled in and out of sleep, her mind seemingly wanting her awake while her body looked a couple hours behind from the way she lifts her arm up and lets it go, the limb smacking her across the face. Chiara groans again.

"[Name]!"

"You always get piss drunk and regret it the morning afterwards. Its like you never learn your lesson. Didn't we have a conversation about you eating bread before you started drinking?" [Name] comments as she pushes the glass of water to her lips again. "Keep drinking water. I know you also have Liquid IV in your purse so pour some in that too while you're at it."

"You're awful good about knowing the cure for hangovers." Kermit comments as [Name] kneels for Chiara's purse to find the powdered packet. "Do you go out often?"

[Name] shakes her head. "My older sister gave me some advice before I started uni and I guess I just remembered it. I tell Chiara all the time but she never seems to get it in her head that protein and bread will keep her from any of this--"

"I do not wish for a lecture now."

An eye roll came off from the girl as she throws the powder on her lap. "You'll get it now or you get it later. Your death."

Benji comes up to them, plates of breakfast on his arms, to which [Name] takes gratefully. He sits beside Kermit and watches the two argue back and forth before chiming in.

"You've been harping since she woke up," Benji says quietly to her. They watch as Chiara gets pulled up by Oscar from behind and Kermit makes a comment about the pancakes being tasty. "Maybe you should ease up on her?"

"Easy for you to say." [Name] says, taking a fork full of pancakes. "I'll be the one dealing with her later if she doesn't follow that routine I so willingly researched to make after one too many hangovers with her."

Benji snorts. "Of course you'd research it. Little miss routine and research."

He bites into his food but [Name] felt her body tense at his comment. "Routine and research."

Benji nods. "Yeah. When you have to figure out a routine, you go and research it. I don't think I've ever seen you do anything spontaneously."

"Us fake dating isn't spontaneous?" [Name] suggests.

Benji laughs. "I mean, maybe, but you sat me down and showed me the probability of people figuring us out and then basically started a lecture about how we should be careful one night and what kind of lies we should have on hand in case we slip up."

It had been our of precaution, [Name] remembered thinking. She had looked into what could have happened in case Aeron and his friends rubbed their braincells together to culminate that they were fake dating. Benji had shrugged off the conversation at the time but she wonders if he changed his mind after last night.

Clearly the precaution had been more necessary than anything after last night. She had nearly been lost in herself when she realized Aeron caught them and knew they were lucky he had been enough in a drunken haze into thinking her and Benji actually did come together.

Routine and research had been her only means of getting her comfortable with this situation. Something just felt right when she had all the information and statistics laid out on the table for her to see. Regardless, the comment left a dry taste in her mouth.

Of course she knew she was perceived as a little strange with her long lists and scheduled times. Even her own siblings made comments on her constant need to wanting to know everything. It kept her sane since she had started university and was the only security she knew that would keep her from losing whatever sanity she had left since the fake dating conundrum.

"Clearly we need to work on it." [Name] comments as she takes a bite of her breakfast, doing her best to avoid anyone's faces, even after she heard Benji groan.

"Please, no. That was so gruelling. Not to mention long. It didn't even work last night."

This time, [Name] sent a burning look to Benji. "Next time I'll just stay quiet then instead of trying to save our asses since my effort trying to keep up this little ruse is all one sided." She says, her voice icy before taking another bite of her breakfast.

The room stilled for a moment. In any other situation, [Name] would have done something like walk away or apologize for ruining the mood. It was too early in the morning for her to be in a hurry to alleviate the tension so she had let her anger be known as she ate in furied silence.

All that was heard was the clanking of the utensils against the plate. Glancing to her other side, even Chiara was eating silently, which was never the case even during moments [Name]'s patience was worn thin. Benji was tense beside her, glancing at her every now and then as be bit into his breakfast.

By the time she finished her plate, she announced that she would be gathering her things in her room and that her and Chiara had to get home. She spent the remainder of her time in the guest room, gathering her items before a knock could be heard.

Chiara stepped in, offering a sober smile as a peace offering. "Thanks for coming to get me."

"That's what friends do." [Name] says as she pulls her sweater over her shirt - Benji's shirt. It almost fit her too well, as if Benji had outgrown it long ago.

His suggestion to bring it home with her last night rang through her head, though she wasn't quite ready to broadcast that she had not only stayed over at his place but also insinuated something to imply she had to wear a change of clothes.

"You know," Chiara starts, settling on the pristine mattress. For an apartment full of boys, they had done well to keep the area decorated and clean. The guest room hadn't a single speck of dust and the sheets smelled like lavender and linen. "I'm sure Ben was just teasing earlier."

"Does teasing also mean hinting that I'm a Class A bore? Aeron Bracken already made me aware of my plight for some time now - and with everyone - and I don't need any more reminders."

Aeron, with all his obsession in wanting to make [Name]'s shifts a living hell, was also a perpetrator for gossip on campus. She knew it had been him who started the insulting stories about her being so boring, she most likely was the only virgin left on campus.

Not that it had been his business, or anyone's for that matter.

"He hadn't meant it that way." Chiara says but [Name] continued to fold her items with tempered patience. "Just that... You know..."

"No, I don't know what you mean, Chiara." [Name] challenges.

Chiara sighs as she lays down on the bed. "Don't take this the wrong way - I love you and you have your reasons to be so distant with men but you have a habit of being guarded with them even during friendly fire."

[Name] only sent her a look of caution. She hadn't been wrong; throughout [Name]'s 20 years of being alive, she hadn't had the best with talking to men. She did her best to limit her experience, subconsciously or not she wasn't sure anymore but every interaction she's had since then had always ended with her being short with them or just keeping conversations short.

Until with Benji, that is. The stories about him were just half truths from how he actually was. With all the rough edges and harshness he harbors, an equal amount of kindness is what she seems more often than not when they're around each other. Between the both of them, [Name] would have to admit she was more talkative than him since they had gotten more friendly with one another.

Sometimes she would even poke at him to see how much it would take him to show that callousness he oh so had. Nothing concerning ever came out of it besides him teasing her endlessly but it wasn't geared toward anything about her insecurities the way he had earlier.

She gnawed at her lip as she thought about this morning again. Chiara was looking at her expectantly, waiting for a response. [Name] only gave an answer by shoving her clothes under her arm and saying, "Come on, I have half a day off and I'd rather not spend it at a stranger's home."

"Technically this is your boyfriend's home so it shouldn't be awkward."

[Name] rolled her eyes, ready to remind her that Benji was technically not her boyfriend before she spied Oscar standing by her door from the corner of her eye. "You aren't working all day today?"

"Miracle, isn't it?" Chiara comments. "Looks like Rhaenyra finally wants her employee of the month to finally take a break."

"I'm her only employee?" [Name] counters, earning a raspberry blown her way. Oscar straightens himself in excitement.

"You should come to our bonfire tonight. We don't do much, just sit around a fire and talk. Sometimes we take night swims if enough of us bring something to swim in." He offers, making Chiara jump up from the bed.

She shakes [Name]'s arm, who nearly dropped the spare clothes under her arms. "We'd love to go!" [Name] opens her mouth in protest, but is stopped when Chiara continues to speak. "[Name], come on. It'll be fun."

Kermit and Benji stroll in, watching as the brunette practically begs [Name]. She bites at her lip, glancing at the three men just outside the door, her eyes meeting Benji's. He was hard to read at the moment, anticipation only tracing his face as he waits for her answer.

Her gaze cuts back down to her feet for a moment, trying to decide if meeting them at the beach was a good idea or if it was going to be as awkward as it was right now. Benji was the first to speak up.

"How about you sit on it and you can let us know later? Besides, the beach isn't just meant for us. You can even go there tonight and not have to be around us the whole night." He suggests, the idea calming her nerves a bit as she nods in response. Benji nods back, as if there was a mutual understanding only they both knew about.

Chiara smiles. "I don't hear a no. We'll need to go now, then; can't stay around here all day smelling like booze and with ruined makeup." She comments as she walks out the door, [Name] trailing behind her.

[Name] offers a quick thank you before leaving, doing her best to avoid Benji's burning gaze as she steps out the door and watches her retreat into the crisp morning air of King's Landing.

The afternoon shift at Nyra's Nook was mediocre at best. [Name] had done inventory on new books that arrived the day before and reset any books that had strewn about (though she wasn't sure it made a difference with how majority of the books stacked one another along the shelves anyways).

She had been in the middle of counting the till before she finished her shift when Jace had walked in, ready to relieve her. An amused look fell on his face and [Name] had already known what he was going to say.

"Don't--" She starts, but Jace had beaten her to the punch.

"Quite a ruckus happened last night, according to my sources." He comments as he walks behind the counter. [Name] rolls her eyes. Sources meaning Cregan Stark. "Who knew our very own [Name] could pack a punch."

"It was not a punch. It was a bitch slap." [Name] corrects, earning a howl of laughter from Jace. She slapped his chest. "You can either help me clear the items off this counter while I count or you can walk away before I tell Syrax to sic you."

Jace shakes his, though he cast a glance at his mother's cat, who had a clear favorite among the two as she sidled herself beside [Name], who adjusted the large pink bow attached to her. He does as he told, removing new books out of the last box she hadn't been able to finish.

They worked in silence for a moment, giving a bit of respite in his teasing. Jacaerys Velaryon, in all his popularity and golden boy image, was most definitely raised by his mother. He was kind and hadn't minded others opinions too much like [Name].

He kept a good head on his shoulder whenever something went awry, which was a good thing to have whenever [Name] had to deal with people who weren't on their best behavior, at work or on the rare days he wasn't at football practice and was walking around campus.

They weren't close, so to speak, but he had been more or less been like a brother to [Name] whenever he was around. Always teasing her but without any nasty intentions.

"Its good you slapped him, by the way. Aeron Bracken." Jace comments, his nose wrinkling as he mentioned his name.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with your little feud with your family, would it?" [Name] asked, recalling his family drama.

Jace shakes his head. "I mean, the Brackens are technically in partnership with our family in some way, just not us. So to speak." He tries to explain, but [Name]'s blank stare urged him to broach the real subject. "No, I went to school with Aeron and Ben."

[Name] blinked at him, shocked at the news. Of course, it had made sense. Benji had been only a year older than her and if she thought hard enough, so was Jace. She never knew to try and connect the dots until now.

"They were both hot tempered and made the school year interesting, but between the two, Aeron was more cruel. Ben only retaliated in the way he knew, by being as vicious as he needed. But he never took things far the way Aeron had." Jace explains, adding the last part as if remembering he was talking to Benji's girlfriend.

[Name] nods, attempting to not seem interested but she was. Benji's life before he attended Crownlands Imperial College was shrouded in a mystery she didn't wish to press him for. The only information she heard about Benji before college was from Chiara and unrelated stories of his past he had mentioned to her before.

"Why do you think he changed all of a sudden?" She asked Jace, referring to Benji's sudden subdued behavior when he started university.

Jace hums, thinking deeply for a moment before he shrugged. "No clue. He almost felt like a ghost, though. Like he was here but not really. Ben wasn't ever like that before and well, he doesn't seem like that now that you've been seeing each other."

[Name] frowned, not quite understanding the sentence but knew better than to question it at the moment. Maybe Benji had a change of heart in his behavior lately; she could hardly believe she would influence anyones sudden outlook in life that quickly.

But then again, Benji was more sensitive than she was at times; breakfast was enough of an indication that at the very least he felt a sense of guilt. Guilt swept her up as well, the anger from this morning having subsided on her walk back home.

She petted Syrax as she thought on Oscar's offer about coming to the beach. After a moment, she found herself pulling out her phone and texting Chiara that she still wanted to go to the beach but wouldn't bother swimming.

The only response she received was a set of heart and wave of emojis, to which she let a small laugh at. Jace had made sure to spot this as he continued to work.

"Did you have fun afterwards?" He asked, smirking over at [Name]. She blinked at him for a moment before understanding the suggestive question.

"What happened after that public display of violence is none of your business." [Name] responds back, face bright red. "Besides, the Tullys and Chiara were with us..."

Jace snorts. "That's never stopped me before."

At this mentioned, [Name] rolls her eyes. "That's because you're a manwhore--"

She hadn't the opportunity to finish the sentence as Jace had covered her mouth the minute Rhaenyra walked out from her office.

The car ride to the beach nearly gave [Name] a heart attack. Chiara had her license for more than four years, though [Name] was sure her friend only used it for less than a year with how recklessly she had just driven them.

[Name] let out a sigh of relief once her feet made contact with the ground, glaring at a nonchalant Chiara who only said , "What?" before walking toward a small group of people surrounding a fire.

Kermit had been the first to spot them, running up to Chiara and helping her offload the chairs on her as she carefully held the booze she had brought for that evening. Oscar and Benji walked over to them, taking any heavy bags from [Name] as well.

"Looking a little green there, [Name]." Oscar teases.

"I'll throw up on you." [Name] threatens, feigning to lurch forward and a sense of satisfaction rolling off her as Oscar lets our a shriek in terror.

Kermit and Chiara trail after him, the older of the Tully brothers grumbling about his brother being too loud. Benji puts a hand on her shoulder, stopping them from moving to allow a safe enough distance from their friends.

They look at each other and for a moment, the crashing waves and laughter being swallowed around them. [Name] feels as if she couldn't breathe from how long they stood in front of each other, though she couldn't pull her eyes from his as they try to read each other.

Slinging her bag around himself, Benji pulls [Name] to him by her waist, nearly hugging her to him as he settles his head against her own. Faintly, she felt her stomach flutter at the gesture but spies a few prying eyes from the bonfire. She lets her rigid back soften slightly, leaning into Benji's side hug before he leads her toward the group, her hand fiddling with the end of his shirt as they moved.

"How was work?" Benji asks when they walk.

"Good." She responds back. The walk to the bonfire felt like a million miles away. The morning of their disagreement hung between them and [Name] did her best to swallow down any nervousness before it shook her whole body. "How was your's?"

Benji nods along in deep thought, as if trying to remember the fog of his shift at the downtown tattoo parlor today. "Could have been better but we're here now right?"

There was a double meaning behind that sentence, one only [Name] could understand. An allusion to what happened this morning, as if to say Let's not worry about it anymore. Gods if they really were going out, [Name] certainly didn't deserve someone as understanding as Benji.

His eyes cast at the group in front of them, spying something far ahead before moving away from her. "Do you want a beer?"

[Name] nods, settling down a log and letting the fire warm her legs as she watches the orange and pink hues of the sky beating down slowly. Her eyes train over to Chiara, who seems to being having a fun time with Benji's friends.

She seemed to fit right in, with her boisterous laughing and big smiles as Oscar and another one of his friends, Martyn Whent, threw a frisbee around. [Name] smiles at her friend, remembering how much she thrived around being near other people.

"She's very extroverted, your friend." A soft voice says from her right. [Name] turns, her stomach doing an uncomfortable flip as she makes looks up at Ulla Greyjoy.

Up close, Ulla was even more gorgeous. Her black hair was in a windswept ponytail, all the baby hairs jutting out this way and that but she looked as if she just stepped out of a magazine cover. She had makeup on and not a smudge was found on her sharp eyeliner. She had chosen a black tube top and denim shorts that were unzipped to reveal her black bikini.

In layman's words, Ulla looked hot.

"Yeah, Chiara loves people." [Name] comments, moving aside when Ulla takes seat next to her.

The dark haired girl nods. "I can tell; I'm not great at it so I'm a bit jealous."

Nodding, they continue to watch Chiara strike up a conversation from one person to another as they slowly start to grow a circle of frisbee players. At first [Name] used to be envious of Chiara when they had initially been roommates from how well she was able to fit in with a crowd so well.

After some time with her, though, it developed more into admiration from how observant Chiara was. She had been the one to invite [Name] out and made sure she knew just about everything happening at the school. Even today, she had made sure to ask [Name] if she was really okay with the outing before they left.

Jealousy was a feeling she understood but did her best to not take over as she knows she can't force herself to be social the same way Chiara can't force herself to enjoy seclusion the way [Name] did.

She did her best to not contemplate too much and was a but grateful when Ulla continues speaking. "I was a but surprised when I heard you were coming. From all the things I heard, I thought you weren't really the social type."

"I'm not very social," [Name] admits. "But that doesn't really eliminate the fact I want to go out and meet some people."

Ulla nods. "Does that happen often with you and Ben?"

"What do you mean?"

She nods toward Benji, who was unceremoniously stuck between a few people by the cooler, nodding along and laughing at a joke someone said. Benji's all black t-shirt and denim shorts getup was nearly matching Ulla's own outfit. The thought made [Name] tug at the skirt of her pink sundress.

Ulla offered a tight lipped smile. "Its just, I've never seen you two out before besides on campus. Do you guys go on dates or anything? He certainly took me out often after..."

She pauses for a moment, clearly knowing she spoke too much and showed it from the way she offered a faux smile and looked away. A bubble of irritation rises in [Name] as she realizes what was happening. She hadn't cared too much about what Benji did in the past or his off time - after all, this was an arrangement that was only a couple of weeks long - but she knew when she was being made to look like an idiot.

"We go on dates; granted its not every time something happens but I guess that's just the benefit of doing more than sleeping with each other." [Name] says with narrowed eyes, watching as Ulla regarded her with faint surprise before morphing it into overplayed shock.

"I wasn't insuating anything like that--"

"Then what were you insinuating? You're a grown woman, Benji's a grown man. That's not something new, especially at university. As long as it isn't happening now, then I don't really care about Benji's dating history, no matter how questionable that person is." [Name] says, leaning against her palm to look at the dark haired girl.

Ulla regarded her with a calculated stare and [Name] held it with as much intensity. She's had her round of bullies this year. Aeron was easy enough to deal with. She always fought him off whenever he bothered her but the slap and this morning had seemed to have given her a healthy reminder that she can't always plan things ahead of time.

Their stare off at had come to a head when another dark haired girl walked up to them, settling on [Name]'s other side as she says, "Trying to scare off more girls from this group, Greyjoy?"

Turning her head, [Name] met another pair of familiar brown eyes, though it was more intense and they narrowed to an obvious distaste for the other girl in front of her. Her pitch black hair was tied into a bun but she was still just as pretty as Ulla.

Ulla doesn't say a word as she gets up from her spot, sauntering off to the other side of the firepit.

The new dark haired girl turns to [Name], all hostility gone from her face as she says, "Ignore her; she's all bark, no bite. She's also just upset her newest toy lost interest in her before she had her fun. Not to mention, I'm sure you scared her off a bit with that response. Ulla wants to chase off any competition in this group. Not there's anything to scope out with these idiots."

Taking a glance around the men in their wake, [Name] lets out a chuckle in agreement as she spots Martyn and Kermit wrestling in the far distance. For a moment she envisons her brothers back home, who always tussled about with each other that way. "Yeah, you're right, I guess."

"I'm Alysanne Blackwood. Or Aly. I'm Benji's cousin - well, technically aunt but we're only two years apart so it doesn't make much of a difference." The girl tries to explain, taking a sip of beer in her hand. "And you're Benji's girlfriend. [Name], right? Cregan told me about you from last night."

[Name] groaned. Of all people, she hadn't expected Cregan to be so loose lipped. "Does everybody know about last night?"

"I'd wager yes. That was epic. I wish I was there. I'd do anything to see a Bracken get knocked down a few pegs." Aly comments. "Whatever Ulla said to you, don't worry too much. They did have something going on but it was short lived and she's just bitter someone managed to break Benji down before she did."

[Name] raised an eyebrow. "You mean his no dating streak?"

Aly confirms with a smile. "The most he did was sneak around with Ulla and a few girls a couple of months the first year before completely cutting any kind of woman off. Imagine my surprise when I hear from Oscar and Kermit say he started dating a girl whose head isn't full of logs."

"Any particular reason why he decided to do all of that and suddenly break it?" [Name] asked, watching as Aly's face fell slightly.

"I think its up to Benji to talk about that." She says. [Name] takes that as a sign to be patient and wait.

"Fair enough." [Name] says, recalling her own secrets she wants to hold close. "If its any consolation, us dating was a complete accident."

"Yeah?" Aly asked, frowning. "How'd you two meet?"

"At Nyra's shop." A voice from behind them interrupts. Benji sits at the spot Ulla had sat from - a good thing so she could finally swipe that memory of her in exchange for him. Benji hands her a beer, the condensation from the cold bottle running between her fingertips as she takes a sip. He falls easily into their story as she fiddles with the ring on his finger. "I thought she was too pretty and pink for her to take a chance on me but I couldn't resist."

She feels his lips touch the crown of her head, a silent signal for her to say its her turn now. "I thought he was a mute so I didn't really notice him."

Benji's lip twitches in amusement. It hadn't been a complete lie - she really had thought he was a mute the first couple of months they interacted until she heard him garble out a quiet "thank you" on a random evening. It had nearly frightened her, thinking a spirit had made itself known. It had been an embarrassing story to admit but Benji had thought the story was amusing enough.

"You're the most reasonable person in the world and you think a ghost is more likely to show up than me talking?" He had asked her that day. They had gone to the diner for another late night study "date".

"Well excuse me for not realizing you were weren't verbally impaired!" She shot back, nearly falling off her spot on the leather seats from laughing with him. They had gotten absolutely nothing done that night.

"He dropped a few books on my hands when neither of us were looking and apologized after I screamed. He asked me out to dinner as a way to make up for nearly cutting my fingers off." [Name] said, peeking at Benji as she jokes.

"Now you're just being dramatic."

"Fine, my circulation cut off. But still a bit bold to ask someone during a shift."

"You clearly liked it if we're still together." Benji teases, leaning his tall frame over her.

Their noses brushed against each from how close they were and [Name] felt her heart race when she had thought he was going to kiss her on the lips. Her gaze stayed on his lips for a moment before she glanced up at him, realizing her had been staring at her the entire time.

She swallows thickly, hiding it away her nervousness by moving away and pressing her lips against his cheek to avoid any confusion. Her gaze tore to the burning wood afterward, not wanting to meet Benji's eyes.

What was that? She wanted to ask him. Had he wanted to kiss her or was she thinking too much on it? She wasn't sure. She couldn't inquire too much anyways, not with his own cousin (aunt?) right next to them. If Aly suspected anything, though, she hadn't said a thing, smiling at the pair before walking off with the excuse to help Chiara win against Kermit and Oscar, who were well known cheats at frisbee.

Now it had just the two of them, staring at the fire since it was better than looking at each other. The crackle of the fire was the only noise she could hear, conversations around them drowning out as she realized that had been the first time she's ever had to make a move since they first started fake dating.

And for some reason she wanted to do it again soon. It must be the beer, she thinks. Still, it doesn't stop her from taking two gulps to possibly help numb that though.

"Fancy a walk?" Benji asks suddenly, the low baritone of his voice breaking their barrier of silence, making her jump a bit. An amused smile plays his lips at the action, making [Name]'s stomach turn again. She tales another sip of the beer. Then nods after a moment.

"Sure."

He holds out a hand for her to take as they walk a far enough distance from everyone else. Distantly, one of his friends makes an innuendo about straying far enough to do something. [Name] does her best to ignore the comment as Benji turns around and screams at him to get his head out of his ass while sticking a middle finger up.

"I'm sorry about them; they're all from the Riverlands like me. Formalities aren't our strongest suit." Benji explains with a laugh.

[Name] shakes her head. "No, its fine. I like them. They remind me of home."

"Oh yeah? How was life like at home for you?"

"Too many men." [Name] all but comments, chuckling with Benji before continuing. "I have two older brothers and two younger brothers between me and my older sister. We grew up closer to Dorne - formalities are different for us too."

Benji whistles. "And I thought my family was large..."

"There was never a moment of peace with the lot of them." [Name] comments, grinning. "I thought getting away from the noise at school would do me some good but I miss them a lot. Seeing your friends act like that made me a little less homesick. Thanks for inviting me."

"Not a problem. You are always welcome to come, homesick or not." Benji offers, smiling at her. His eyes turn a bit solemn, a thought pulling him away briefly. "And... I'm sorry for not realizing I was going to far this morning."

He looks away, eyes downcast to where the water lulls against the sand, as if ready to receive a scolding from [Name]. She found herself lost again, wondering how many versions of Benji she had seen so far. He was a bit more like what the person she initially met today - gruff and a little mean spirited but whatever edges he sharpened was subsequently dulled (sometimes a little too late but they dulled nonetheless) whenever she was around.

The thought of him being able to let his guard down around her sent a warmth in her chest. She squeezed his hand to signal for him to look at her. "I'm sorry too," She concedes. "I'm not very good when I have to say I'm uncomfortable. And I have little patience when it comes to teasing - my brothers knew of it and did everything they could to push my buttons until they take things too far. I know you didn't intend that so you shouldn't have gotten the brunt of my anger this morning." Benji nods in understanding. "Plus I didn't get to eat a proper dinner yesterday so I was just downright starving that morning."

Benji stops for a brief moment, the cold ocean washing over their feet and lets out a laugh. The orange hue from the sun casted a golden glow to his face and for a moment [Name] felt that same gut twisting feeling in her stomach again. She did her best to neutralize her face as she had unwittingly thought that Benjicot Blackwood was the most handsome man she has ever met.

"I'll make sure you've had a full meal before I try anything next time." Benji jokes but the promise was there: he wouldn't push her anymore than he had this morning.

"Good. I'll be less snappy next disagreement." [Name] replies in return before sighing. She looked back at the group, just mere ants from the distance they stood in. Her feet had grown tired and frankly, she wanted to stay alone with Benji for as long as possible.

So, she settled down on the sand, just a few feet from the wading water. Benji followed suit, settling beside her in the sand. They both take sips of their beers before [Name] says, "Tell me about your family... Are they as noisy as mine?"

Benji grins. "Oh, trust me. They're all a bit mad, honestly. But you'd love them..."

They spent the rest of the afternoon talking about their families, their jobs, and everything in between. For that time, nothing really mattered to [Name]. Aeron, Ulla, everyone who had seemed to enjoy circulating their romance - none of that seemed to have mattered when it was just her and Benji sitting in the wet sand, drunkenly laughing at stories that weren't that funny.

Though, [Name] thought, it might have something to do with it just being with one another that made the stories amusing.

taglist

@not-a-glad-gladiator @opheliaas-stuff @sahvlren @nikki-is-a-nerd @weird-things-i-think-about @cxcilla @anakilusmos @haydee5010 @waystarkia @newestobsessionishere @herejhsttostan @hardkiddonut @aisselasstuff @rebeccawinters @aemondsb1tch @radiantdanvers @northofvalyria @accidentpronedork @cafemirka @hobis-hope95 @nixtape-foryou @poppyflower-22

please cast your vote :)

[midnightfantasiez]

Pineapple Slice | Octoberfest Day 4

➺ Pairing - one-night stand!Changmin x fem!reader

➺ Drink - Mimosa with a shot of vodka (aka one-night stand!au x public sex)

➺ Summary - All you wanted was to just drink the night away and forget about all of your problems, but what if someone offers you something much better than alcohol? Would you be able to reject the offer?

➺ Word Count - 1,881

➺ Warnings - Smut (18+, minors DNI), cursing, alcohol consumption, reader is pretty much drunk, messy makeouts, petnames (sweetheart, baby), dirty talk, hickeys, blowjob, cum tasting, public sex (which is also kinda rough-ish), unprotected p in v, hair pulling, reader digs her nails into Changmin's back 🫣

➺ Author’s note - hehe it's my turn for my contribution to our octoberfest collab!! surprise surprise this is written for my lovely @sungbeam / @beamtori happiest birthday 妹 i love you to the moon and back 😚❤️ this is also inspired by baekhyun's song so i highly suggest listening to it while reading this 🤭 (also hi hello @kyaroscuro 😙)

➺ Taglist - @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @mamuljji @synthwxve @j4edo @daisyvisions @momhwa-agenda @snowflakewhispers @h0mebody-heaven @nyu-topia @jaminthemiddle (join my permanent taglist here!)

➺ OctoberFest Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The sounds of the blaring music coming out from the speakers of the club were now beginning to annoy the fuck out of you instead of making you go high a couple of hours prior.

It has been a pretty rough week at work, and you needed a change of environment after being glued to your computer screen from 8 a.m. to 6 a.m. throughout the week. So you figured it wouldn’t hurt to visit a newly opened club just a few blocks from your apartment. 

Seoul was a bustling city, after all, so it’s without a doubt that the nightlife here is pretty wild and can last till sunrise the next day. It wasn’t something you were particularly fond of at the beginning since you grew up by the beach, but you figured that you had to accept it if you wanted to survive in the big city. 

Naturally, the club slowly became a place of comfort for you every once in a while after your co-workers introduced you to the party scene. You used to be terrified of even entering such places, but over time, you have loosened up and enjoyed the feeling of getting high once in a while—especially after a hectic week at work. 

Instead of calling your regulars up for company, you challenged yourself by going to the club alone. As much as you love your friends, there are also times when you rather enjoy your little alone time by yourself and take in everything that has happened throughout the week.

So off you went as you grabbed one of your jackets hanging by the doorstep, and you quickly made your way into the club by showing your ID. It was one of the largest ones you’ve been to, and it would’ve been a lie to say that you were slightly overwhelmed being in such places all alone.

Thinking of the best solution to calm your nerves, you head straight for the bar—order a cup of mimosa with a splash of vodka and almost chugging it down with a single gulp. Once the alcohol hit your systems, you knew that there was no turning back before you started ordering a couple more drinks to last throughout the night. 

Before you finally came to your senses, the bartender had to step in to stop you in your tracks—worrying that the amount of alcohol in your system would eventually bring out the opposite effect that you were planning to have. Frustrated, you snatched the bottle of vodka in his hand before slamming down a massive chunk of dollar bills onto the counter before you decided that it was good to get some fresh air at this point. 

Eventually, you didn’t end up too far from the club, where you spotted a dimly lit alleyway where you could lean back against the wall and drink to your heart's content. You couldn’t care less if people were passing by and were giving you looks—you just needed some time alone. 

Right before you were about to hit the halfway mark of drinking the vodka, a hand suddenly extended out from the side and grabbed your wrist—the figure slowly moving up close to you so that the one sole light source in the alleyway shone upon their faces, revealing a seemingly rather tall and good looking man. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t think it’s wise for you to finish that entire bottle like that. You’re going to have a horrible hangover after this,” he spoke firmly, his hand now wrapping over the bottle to try to take it away from your hands.

“Who are you, and why do you care? Leave me the hell alone! I can do whatever I want~” You slurred, slowly getting all worked up as the alcohol was taking control of your consciousness. 

But it seemed as if the man wasn’t going to give up easily, and he yanked the bottle away from your hands and placed it far up above his head, causing you to jump up and down, trying to reach for your liquor. 

“Stop it! Give it back to me!” You argued as you continued jumping before you realised that you accidentally stepped on the male’s shoe before falling straight into his embrace—his other free hand now wrapping around your waist. 

Your legs immediately go numb when you whiff the perfume he is wearing—a hint of vanilla with a mix of peony, which also happens to be one of your favourites. Unbeknownst to you, you slowly buried your face in the crook of his neck, your heavy breathing hitting the surface of his skin. 

The male was slightly taken aback by that sight, but he finally reassured you by caressing your hair a little bit before trying to pull you away so that he could talk to you face to face. “Let me escort you home, hmm? You’re better at crashing straight down onto the bed in your current state.” 

However, you refused to budge. “No~ I still can drink! I wanna drink!” 

The male shook his head for a while, seemingly trying to come up with something that could help distract you for a bit before he felt something on his pants. 

Or rather, his dick. 

The moment he looked down, your hands were slowly caressing his bulge as you looked at him full of lust. It was definitely the alcohol that made you feel this way, not to mention that invigorating scent of his that just made you want to have him. 

In the blink of an eye, you dove right in and crash your lips against his, moving your tongue around messily. The moment you felt his lips against yours, you knew you would not return home anytime soon. There was this pineapple scent on his lips—possibly from the liquor he had before crashing into you, or it was some sort of flavoured lip balm he had put on for the night.

Either way, it made you crave more, and you began to move your lips around messily before the male overpowered you by refuting back the same action. 

“Oh, now you’ve done it, sweetheart.” 

Without warning, he immediately pushed you to the walls of the alleyway before kissing you feverishly. He quickly pulled your collar down to expose that little part of your skin before he moved down to lick your sensitive spot. The moans slowly filled the alleyway and eventually the quiet night, and you did the same by unzipping his pants to dive your hands into his pants to feel him raw. 

“You like what you feel, baby? Do you wanna taste it?” The male smirked in between his kisses.

“Y-Yes, p-please I want it so bad, umm-”

“Ji Changmin, but just call me Changmin will do sweetheart,” he huffed before taking in a deep breath to continue unbuttoning your shirt to reveal your bra. 

As the tension in the air grew, you immediately bent down to pull out his full length before shoving it all into your throat. It hurt a little when you felt his cock tugging at the back of your throat, but the taste of it was what kept you going. 

His precum that was oozing out slightly from his tip tasted exactly like pineapples, just like the one on his lips that you had kissed earlier. And god, this was so much better than the vodka you were chugging down minutes ago. 

“It tastes good, doesn’t it? Much better than all of the alcohol you had consumed for the night, huh?” Changmin groaned as he grabbed a fistful of your hair to push your head deeper, making sure you wouldn’t put any of his liquids to waste.

“Mhm-mhm…” You responded to his comment as you tried to keep your mouth as wide open as you possibly could—god, you wished you could suck on this delicious cock all day long. 

With a few more jerks, you were beginning to feel more of his cum oozing out before you knew that he was close. So you decided to quicken the pace before he eventually gave in to release everything into your mouth, and you made sure to swallow every single drop of them before standing back up to wipe the excess off your lips. 

“God…you taste so sweet, Changmin…W-What’s your secret?” You asked while catching your breath.

“Would you like to find out?” He asked with a sly smile on his face before pinning you against the wall once more to lift one of your legs and pull your underwear aside to rub his dripping cock at your entrance. “Tell me how good I taste, baby. Give it to me one more time.” 

You rolled your eyes back the moment he pushed his whole length inside of you, tearing your tight walls apart. As he slowly quickened up the pace, you slammed one of your hands up against the wall as you wrapped your fingers around the concrete—the adrenaline rushing through your veins with the stimulation you were feeling with the alcohol and having sex with him at the same time.

“God! You’re so fucking good, Changmin!” You screamed as every push he made just made you crave more—the pain was now the least of your worries as you both went on for minutes. 

“You want it deeper? Do you think you can handle all of it?” He challenged with a smirk on his face.

“Y-Yes! Give it all to me!” 

“You like how sweet I taste, sweetheart?”

“Very! Ugh, harder. Harder! Changmin!” 

God, what a mess you’ve been for tonight. 

But this sight of you was a blessing to his eyes, and he was going to make sure you remember every inch of his cock and how it feels throughout your thick, sensitive walls. Most importantly, he was going to ensure that you were going to remember his taste forever.

“Hngh- I’m gonna cum, baby-” Changmin groans.

“Cum all of it for me, do it inside-” You pleaded as you placed your other hand onto his shoulders—your fingers digging deep into his skin. 

With a simple scoff that came out from his mouth, Changmin did a few more hard and deep thrusts before ejecting all of his warm, sweet liquid into you, having the excess ones drip down onto the floor as you both moaned out loud together at the same time. 

When you came down from your high, Changmin leaned in to give you a soft, gentle peck on the lips before he moved some strands of your hair that had fallen onto your face throughout that tremendous workout you both had. “So, do you still want your vodka, sweetheart?”

“Not anymore, now that I’ve tried something better,” you replied breathlessly as you rested one of your fingers on his chest, drawing circles to tease him for a bit. 

“Something tells me you want to stay, and you haven’t got enough of the sweet juices out of me, huh?” He chuckled. 

You simply just give him a teasing smile before you turn your back against him and bend down to rest against the walls as your hand reaches behind for his dripping cock to adjust it to your entrance once more.

“It’s all your fault that I got lost in your sweetness, Ji Changmin.” 

[kazutora-kurokawa]

hello! how are you? I hope it's ok!

You could make a reader who is like hyper feminine, as you know, bows everywhere, pretty dresses, bright pink lipgloss, etc. You could do it with izana, rindou, ran, muto and shion (basically tenjiku hehe) it would be pretty good!

Don't forget to rest and drink water! you are my favorite account!

Tenjiku x Hyper Feminine!Reader

♡ SFW, fem reader, fluffy fluff, pet names, Izana not being a jackass for once???, dresses, skirts, heels, scrunchies, ribbons, bows and all that jazz lol ♡

note: aww thanks anon, I swear I've been taking care of myself 🩷

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Izana

🎴 Spoils you rotten, always buying you cute dresses and accessories

🎴 Makes you model outfits for him like you're on a runway

🎴 Teaches you how to walk in heels, he's so iconic for that honestly

Kakucho

🩷 Helps you pick out dresses, he's like your personal stylist

🩷 Learns how to apply makeup just so he can do it for you, he's super efficient too

🩷 Steals your scrunchies so he can wear them on his wrist

Ran

💜 Matching outfits 24/7, you wear pink and he'll wear purple

💜 He's not above criticizing your outfits either

"Baby what are you doing? That's literally the wrong shade of pink, wear that one instead ♡"

💜 They're probably the same shade of pink, he's just blind asf (someone get this man some glasses lmao)

Rindou

🩵 Steals your bows and clips them on his clothes (Ran probably makes fun of him too)

🩵 Loves playing in your hair, he'll braid ribbons into it and everything

🩵 Almost cried when you kissed him once because you had on lip plumper and it burned his lips

Mucho

🔷 Anything you want is yours, say the word and he's already got it

🔷 Puts your shoes on and takes them off for you, he'll help you with your tights too if you wear them

🔷 He will carry you around everywhere he goes, your presence is just comforting (like if he could shrink you down and put you in his pocket, he would lol)

Mochi

🍡 He probably calls you his little doll because you dress just like one

🍡 Always has his hands on the hem of your dress when you sit in his lap, he just likes feeling the material (bonus points if it's made of lace)

🍡 Loves when you wear pink lipstick, it always leaves the prettiest kiss marks on him

Shion

🖤 Y'all are complete opposites and he loves it

🖤 Avoids you after gang fights because he doesn't wanna stain your cute little dress with blood

🖤 Literally obsessed with you and brags about you nonstop to anyone who'll listen (and people who won't because you know he'll just make them listen)

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies

[anton-luvr]

I absolutely LOVED your dreaming if you cheacting reaction! For the event, can you do a reaction where you dream they cheat? thanks so much i absolutely love your writing pooks 🤭

# WHEN YOU DREAM OF THEM CHEATING ON YOU ; 7riize.

⚝ bf!riize x fem!reader | fluff | bf au ⚝ note ; sorry for the inactivity guys!! i graduated highschool earlier this week so i took some time to rest and celebrate with my friends hehe <3 and thank u !! sorry for the wait, i hope u like this :3

# SHOTARO. - you don't believe your dream at all, and neither does shotaro when you tell him about it the next day. the both of you know how committed and loyal you are with each other, so while the dream is somewhat disturbing, it's soon forgotten with laughs, a quick kiss from shotaro, and watching your favorite movie while cuddling.

# EUNSEOK. - don't get him wrong, he loves you to bits, but he can't help but burst out laughing when you complain about your nasty dream. like him??? cheat on you????? you're so silly <3 but of course, he'll comfort and reassure you that he would never. seals that promise with a long kiss and princess treatment all day.

# SUNGCHAN. - it's just a dream, but he feels terrible about it. to prove to you that he has never cheated on you (and never will tbh he's so in love with you), he lets you go through his phone and do whatever you need to be assured that he isn't living a double life behind your back. once you're relieved, he smothers you with kisses and whispers of 'my only lover' and 'my prettiest girl' <3

# WONBIN. - like sungchan, he feels so bad about it. will hold you close and reassure you that he'll never do that to you, pressing soft kisses to your hands while he holds them, tracing random shapes on to them with his fingers. he'll be apologizing too, even though he didn't do anything wrong. pretty boy just wants you to feel better and reassured that he'll love you and you only :(

# SEUNGHAN. - absolutely disgusted. he'll never do that to you, but the fact that he did in your dreams makes him sick to the stomach. even after you've told him it's just a dream and you'll forget all about it, he won't stop apologizing and telling you how much he loves you. will kiss you from head to toe while showering you in compliments, saying things like 'my baby with the prettiest eyes' and 'my baby with the cutest smile' <3

# SOHEE. - treats you like a princess for the rest of the day. he'd never cheat on you, but he wants to make it up to you for the terror the dream threw on you. cooks (or tries to cook) breakfast for you, takes you out for your favorite overpriced coffee and buys you a dress you've been wanting for a while, and ending the night with cuddles and endless kisses and whispered promises :(

# ANTON. - he's so confused because he would never!!! tells you just that with a warm kiss and an arm wrapped tightly around your waist to keep you close to him, and proceeds to list out an entire list of reasons why he'd never cheat on you and what he loves most about you. ends up with the both of you falling in love with each other more than ever, glad that it was all just a stupid dream.

© anton-luvr, 2023.

taglist : @wonbons @mxlly143 @keehobaldboy @shawyle @yenart (drop an ask to be added to my taglist!)

[kiasnocturnality]

Which one of your characters has a thing for (consensual) hypno during sex? How would they react to their s/o asking them to be hypnotized? 👀

✩⋆ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: alois leblanc, desdemona nausikáa, va'ariniel ninelhuinn-taezerilen, taruqu'inel taezerilen 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: hehe this sounded fun <3 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, smut, hypno kink, dubcon

. * ⋆ . · 　. ALOIS LEBLANC

✭ context is what matters most to this vampire. He finds it rather dull to hypnotise you if you're just together in bed like any other night. He'd much rather know you're giving yourself to him of your own will and desire.

✭ however, if you've decided to initiate a chase, he'll love to hypnotise you once he gets close enough. He wants to see the foggy confusion as you forget why you were running at all and start to stumble as though sleepwalking straight into his arms. He'll weaken his hold over your mind once he's securely squeezing you close to him with a fanged grin.

✭ "Oh? Have you had a change of heart, my sunlight~?"

. * ⋆ . · 　. DESDEMONA NAUSIKÁA

✭ oh she'll love to do it. Desdemona has the most powerful hypnosis out of everyone here and can completely override your will with just a spoken word. But she won't just agree to it, oh no. She'll stay completely silent while you beg for it.

✭ She wants to prove that you're so desperate to be under her control even without her persuading you to feel such a way. She's smile at you with her black cherry lips as you kneel at her feet. Maybe she'll even reach out and stroke your cheek with her knuckles just to let you know when you're starting to do a good enough job of begging.

✭ "That's my sweet little thing... you'll listen to every word I say, won't you? You need my commands more than anything else in the world..."

. * ⋆ . · 　. VA’ARINIEL

✭ Va'ari knows she's a bit of a control freak and that extends to the bedroom too when she's not in the mood to just unwind and be the one getting pampered; so, you catch her interest when you suggest she mesmerise you in bed.

✭ she'll agree but she won't do it right away, oh no. She'll wait until she's settled between your thighs with her fingers curling up to rub against your sweet spot each time she pistons her two fingers in and out of your sticky pussy. She only needs to make eye contact with you to mesmerise you and so, just as you're on the verge of orgasm...

✭ "look at me, sweetheart. There you go~ don't look away... don't cum. You're not allowed to cum until I say so~"

. * ⋆ . · 　. TARUQU’INEL

✭ Taru... isn't actually all that into it. You're his piece of truth in his charade of a life and he wants to always see you as your most authentic self, never being pupeteered the way he is every day.

✭ though, it does give him another idea... for a split second, he mesmerises you and claims he's changed his mind, letting that warm and fuzzy feeling fall over you to lure him into believing he's keeping your mind hostage. Between slow, firm thrusts into your warm walls, he kisses and nibbles your ear as he asks you filthy questions and you answer honestly each time, believing you're being made to do so.

✭ "Look at how filthy you are... moaning all these dirty answers out f'me..." He laughs lowly, "And you haven't even been mesmerised at all..."

𓋼𓍊⋆ﾟ like my work? why not: ⋆ support me ⋆ join my taglist  ⋆ follow/reblog

@writing-noah @edensrose @indigobl00d @dustyinkpages @itseivwhore @matcha-flavored-cake @axtrr @aetheriial @shusumilk @black-rose-29 @asianbutnotjapanese @gojohater101 @starrynights-frostbites @cherrykisses0607 @sarah22447 @generalpuppeh @thefreefencer @midromiell

[dollfaced-erin]

𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟'𝕤 ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕖 (Blade x F!Reader x Jing Yuan)

PART 14

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13

A/n : -

Hi ! Sorry i've been long ! i hope yall havent been waiting until you go stale on me hehe ! I hope all of you have been well while i was gone and been good ! I just made the masterlist and im pretty happy with the way it turned out for me. I've been going through some irl issues and wasnt able to write as often. but since im warming up here more, i think i'm able to adjust to my life here and be able to write again per usual~! someone ples hit me if i forget...

Taglist : -

@rebeccawinters , @nayukiyukihira , @pix-stuff , @fluffy-koalala , @swivy123 , @starxao , @kaoyamamegami , @kimura-uzuri , @rsvye , @seikouryuu , @just-here-reading , @matsulovesyou, @sincerely-aaronette , @prettyliliy , @chibiduck , @hermosacolibri , @la-diablas-thingz , @farelady-fate , @everi-eve , @shadowfoxey , @helloyuki , @immahuman

(Y/n) walked back to the Matrix of Prescience once again, head held high as if she hadn't succumbed to the sea of Lunarescent Depths earlier. Her body felt no pain, but the lingering feeling of being impaled was a constant reminder in the back of her mind.

"Are you sure you're ready for it ? Don't you think you need more rest ?" Bailu asked worriedly as she watched the former reigning high elder stand from the resting position she was placed in earlier.

"No. I've had enough rest. I need to get back to my loyalties." She said, looking at the princess behind her. Sorrow flashed in her eyes as they landed on the shackle on Bailu's tail.

Then she bent down to the girl's height, her heart throbbing in familiarity and familial. She raised a hand and ruffled Bailu's purple locks, a soft smile on her lips.

"Hey...when I'm back, I'll make sure I'll get those damned Preceptors to release your tail from that shackle." (Y/n) said soflty.

It didn't take a genius to know that Bailu's shackle was a Vidyadhara artisan specialty. In fact...she knew that the power that almost...resonated from the relic was used to seal her powers that overflowed from the young dragon lady.

"I'm off now." (Y/n) said, getting up and turning to leave the area. But then she felt a small force tug at her draping cloth from behind. As she looked back with a raised eyebrow, Bailu's eyes were looking right up at her, with worry and with a certain...desire.

"Yes...? Is there anything you need, Miss Bailu...?" (Y/n) said softly, eyes softening at the sight of the pouting girl.

"When...when you come back, can you...can you teach me some High Elder magic...?" she asked softly and shyly.

(Y/n)'s eyes widened before a small smile formed on her lips. "I can try, since my powers are halved without him. But first, I need to fix what I'm supposed to, and repay debts of old. Then when I come back, I'll do my best."

"Promise ?"

(Y/n)'s eyes softened as she crouched in front of the young girl, holding her pinky out.

"Promise."

As much as it all ached, she had work to do. She had regained most of her olden memories that had impacted her in her past. She had come to terms that she is indeed Dan Jia. But at the same time she was (Y/n).

But most importantly she was herself.

High Elder or not, sister to a convicted and exiled criminal or not, she had undying loyalty tied to the land she was standing on. And as the sister to the exiled prince, she had to reimburse and repay the debts that had long been buried by her slumber and his exile.

As she stepped into the Divination Commission's main divining center, she heard gasps of awe and surprise.

She supposed that her current air and facade that she withhold was no longer the same as she was before the memory resurgence from the Matrix of Prescience, the awakening of the Ambrosial Arbor, the Stellaron burst and the endless sea of Lunarescent depths.

By the flight of stairs before reaching the core, (Y/n) caught sight of a petite pink haired lady, looking quite nervous from her stance. She was a little hunched over, an arm across her chest as the other was brought to her lips, biting at her nail gently.

"Lady Fu Xuan." (Y/n) greeted, and the master diviner looked at her in surprise, her golden eyes widening in shock and masked relief.

"L-lady (Y/n) ! A-are you alright ?" The lady asked, and (Y/n) simply raised a hand to wave off her concern, and the diviner silenced herself.

"I am fine. I was brought here to seek out the meaning behind my relapsing visions and wavering consciousness by Jing Yuan. I thought that the least I could do now is come over and assist as I should." (Y/n) said simply.

Even while being someone impatient and disliked the authority of someone above her, namely Jing Yuan, Fu Xuan remained silent as she gazed at the taller woman next to her in awe.

A calm, cold and calculated (e/c) gaze, lips pulled into a small frown, eyes trained onto what lies ahead, arms crossed over her chest, the silky (h/c) hair and regal oriental clothing, the intricate earring that hung from her pointed ear and the horns that perched on her head.

She was the epitome of power and grace.

"If you wish to assist..." Fu Xuan noted, looking at (Y/n). "You might consider lending a hand to the Nameless. Currently they're on the way with a help of a guide after dealing with the spies of the Elixir Seekers lurking within the crowd."

"But I'll have to confirm with the General before I allow you to join them. He should have the last say for he is the one that took it upon himself to take any responsibility for your actions or anything regarding your wellbeing." Fu Xuan said as she began to walk in front of (Y/n), climbing up the flight of stairs.

"Come, right this way, Lady (Y/n)." Fu Xuan said as she ascended the stairs, the dragon lady not far behind her.

"Let's talk to the General for a bit before they arrive."

"Princess...how are you ? I haven't heard of you in a while and quite frankly to say, I was interested in your condition." The familiar smooth voice of the general caressed all ears that were present. Namely, (Y/n) and Fu Xuan.

The general stood before them in the form of a hologram, arms crossed over his chest as a lazy cat-like grin pulled across his lips, towering before the former High Elder of the Luofu and the Master Diviner of the Divination Commission.

"Smooth way to say you were worried about me, General." (Y/n) said with a small chuckle, earning raised eyebrows from the general at the mature and reformed (Y/n) before him.

But he chuckled, and shook his head. "Well, I suppose you could put it that way, (Y/n). Therefore, let me rephrase myself. How are you ? I heard everything and was pretty worried about you."

"I'm fine, thank you. I have...per say...come to terms with my condition and fully stand responsible for whatever has, will and would take place." (Y/n) said with a gentle smile, tilting her head a little to the side with her arms crossed over her chest.

"You never cease to amaze me, my moon..." Jing Yuan said with a chuckle, and his hologram reached out to caress her beautiful silky (h/c) hair that shone beneath the moonlight.

A slight blush dusted her cheeks as she saw the hand. Upon instinct, she would've leaned into the caring and warm hand that was large enough to caress her cheek. But she stiffened a little as she remembered warm lips that once touched her own.

Was this really okay ?

She had an unsolved relationship status with Dan Jia's past lover. Does he count as her own lover as well...? But...

She did find that man that named himself Blade very attractive and alluring. With those sharp scarlet eyes, that defined and sculpted figure and face, his beautiful dark hair and deep sultry voice. And the man does not live by his past identity. Just like how (Y/n) doesn't associate to being one with Dan Jia.

Is it selfish of her to relish in the love by two different men...?

It...isn't forbidden is it...?

Ah...she'll think about that later...

For now...she just wants to lean into his hand and relish in the warmth she knew that palm exuded from the numerous times they had exchanged small intimate gestures...

"Ahem !" a sharp coughed pulled the two out of their dazes.

Pulling back, (Y/n) face turned a bright red and (e/c) eyes blown wide with surprise and embarrassment. Her eyes averted their gaze to the ground and she heard a smooth chuckle from the general and an unsatisfied sigh from Fu Xuan.

"If you're going to show off your intimacy, please do it somewhere and sometime when the situation isn't so dire and in the eyes of the innocent public !" Fu Xuan said, irritation in her voice.

"I..I apologize. I didn't mean to react that way..." (Y/n) said, her cheeks beaming red.

"No need to apologize. I do agree that I am quite the...catch. " The general said with a smirk and the two women groaned in annoyance.

"Back to the topic at large," Jing Yuan said with a hearty chuckle. "Diviner Fu, how are things progressing ?"

We're fluctuating between the heaven and thunder trigrams. A step forward bridges no distance hence..." she said, looking down thoughtfully as she recounts what she had foreseen and received word of.

"And...for those who don't speak Fu Xuan...?" Jing Yuan asked, tilting his head to the side a little at the use of such big and fancy analogies by the small pink woman before him. Even (Y/n) had taken a moment to actually register the flowery words.

"Ahem..." she coughed, before looking at the towering general before her with disappointed and troubled eyes. "It's an utter disaster. How's that for a Divination Commission fortune ?"

"After trying to recount and retell the chapters of the past, no, even before that...the Matrix of Prescience has slowed down and stopped operating and the symbols have dimmed. There are Stellaron spirits wreaking havoc inside the commission and the Cloud Knights are struggling to protect civilians." Fu Xuan said and (Y/n) looked...worried and guilty.

Was this all her fault...? As in...was peeking into her past the reason why the Matrix of Prescience has stopped working ? Has her awakening triggered the rampage of the spirits of the forbidden disease ?

"...I want to restore the Matrix of Prescience but I have no forces available..." Fu Xuan said with a shake of her head. "And on top of that General, we still have to deal with the Stellaron Hunter you handed us. If that's not an utter disaster, then I don't know what is..."

Then Jing Yuan let out a hearty laugh. "But you're Fu Xuan the seer-- the boundless omniscient !" Jing Yuan said, trying to motivate her. "Bringing luck and avoiding misfortune is your strong suit, isn't it ?"

"You don't need to flatter me, General. It's natural for fortune to fluctuate -- there's no escaping it." Fu Xuan said with a serious frown on her lips. "The Divination Commission simply does its best to uncover the good and the bad and then make the right decisions. We have no magical means to turn the tide."

"And that is precisely why we need you in charge. When it comes to handling clairvoyant Stellaron Hunters, who better than Fu Xuan the seer ?" Jing Yuan said with a proud smirk. "As for reinforcements, you didn't think I'd be unprepared, did you ?"

"Look next to you. Standing proud and tall is the former High Elder herself, a piece of what was meant to be boundless power." Jing Yuan said, gesturing to (Y/n) whose cheeks dusted red at the compliment. "I'd warrant that her power is enough to wipe out a whole platoon with a single swipe of her fan."

"And look," Jing Yuan said, gesturing for the two women to look behind them, where the team of the Nameless had arrived by the top of the stairs.

"Help has just arrived."

"Master Diviner, I brought you the guests." Said a young woman with the brightest emerald eyes (Y/n) had seen. "Though...it wasn't your order i received."

Fu Xuan let out a sigh before turning to give the general a look and a small smile. "So, General...even the guests are on the payroll these days ?" she asked and (Y/n) laughed softly.

"Well since they're already here, I may as well make use of them."

"Couldn't you phrase that a little nicer instead ?" (Y/n) said with a laugh. "You wanted to use flowery language to convey your feelings, but have no problem with revealing intentions."

"What can I say, princess ?" Jing Yuan laughed along. "Strike when the iron is hot, they say."

"Ah, Lady (Y/n) ! Are you alright ? Qingzu told us she had sent you here before us." March said, looking at (Y/n) worriedly, noticing that there was something a little different to (Y/n).

A much more...confident and royal air to the dethroned princess.

"I am fine. Thank you for worrying, March. Don't worry, there is nothing to fret over. I merely had...some enlightenment and answers to questions that have been gnawing away at me for some time now." (Y/n) said, a kind look in her experienced (e/c) eyes.

And she saw something in March click for a moment as she said that, but dared not voice her opinion. Especially not in front of the Master Diviner. Then the Nameless were beckoned to the side by Fu Xuan, and (Y/n) was left to talk to Jing Yuan, who she hadn't seen for a while.

"General..." she started before the hologram raised its finger close to her lips.

"Shh...none of that now, princess. Call me Yuan. No need for the formalities either, for we are closer that mere acquaintances, are we not ?" The lion general asked, and (Y/n) nodded, a soft blush on her cheeks as she was left with him alone to discuss.

"Y-yes..." she said softly, bowing her head a little in embarrassment. Locks of (h/c) hair fell forward, revealing the small trinket that dangled from her pointed ear.

And Jing Yuan noticed.

"(Y/n)..." he started softly before looking around to assess that it was only them that were listening in to their conversation and other pair of ears.

"Did you meet with Blade ?"

(Y/n) froze in her position, blood running cold and palms felt sweaty. Her (e/c) eyes wide with fear and horror. She cursed in her mind, forgetting that the windchime that hung from her ear.

She immediately got up, a hand to her ear as she looked at Jing Yuan with a small smile, trying to hide and lie her way out of the mess she had created. "N-no. Of course not--"

But she was cut off by his chuckle, finding the situation adorable and amusing. "No need to lie, princess. Not alot of craftsmen in the universe are able to create something as detailed and intricated but the man on the run."

"And I understand your past relation to him--" "That's not it, Yuan !"

"Oh ?" The General asked, looking at her with a little surprise in his golden eyes at the flustered woman before him. Then he smiled warmly and teasingly, as he took in the sight of the beautiful horned woman before him.

"Don't worry, princess, I don't mind sharing. But I don't intend to go down without a fight either." He said with a dark chuckle as he leaned in to (Y/n)'s ear.

"After all...lion's are quite possessive of what they are passionate about, right ?" He whispered into her ear.

As he pulled back, he relinquished in the sight of (Y/n)'s red face. Although he was merely a hologram, his sweet whispers felt almost real, as if his warm breath had really just brushed the shell of her horned ear, as if his fluffy white hair had tickled her bright horns perched proudly on her head like a crown of sorts.

Before (Y/n) could stutter out a reply, they were interrupted by a call of (Y/n)'s name by Fu Xuan. (Y/n) was about to leave, when she looked at Jing Yuan for one last time.

"Go, my moon. And remember. Whoever he was in the past, isn't the same as he is now. For both of them." Jing Yuan said, with an affirmative nod. "Trust your heart, and all will fall in place."

As (Y/n) gave him one last nod, she left, turning around to head towards Fu Xuan and the Nameless. The general kept watch of her as her figure grew more and more distant of him, his heart pounding in his chest.

He wanted to reach out to her, to hold her close and never let her go. He knew he was sending her into the face of trouble, but he couldn't let such a pretty bird keep her wings folded forever...

So he clenched his hand by his side, watching her walk away with a loving gaze in those usually cold and calculating honey-glazed eyes of his, his lips opening to whisper a small wish he heard her heart would reach if her ears didn't...

"I trust your judgement as much as I trust you with my heart, my love."

[floralcyanide]

𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚 ⋇ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

Charlie Walker x Gender Neutral!Reader (NSFW)

You and Charlie are fooling around with Robbie’s live-feed camera. The two of you forget it’s on when you are in the film club room fooling around after class. (both Charlie and reader are 18+.)

warnings: smut, nsfw, technical exhibitionism, public sex, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing, Charlie and reader are 18+

word count: 926

author's note: god there's just something that drives me nuts thinking about giving Charlie head like omg. imagine. anyway here's a little imagine just for that (: I hope everyone enjoys!! also @ethanlandryslutt gave me the idea to write for charlie so shoutout to them (I will write your inexperienced smut for charlie soon hehe)

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

When Robbie was suddenly summoned for detention for not turning in homework earlier, you and Charlie thought well, this is annoying. Robbie had been discussing how important this Film Club meeting was, even though it was just you three this afternoon. You had to talk about how to plan the annual Stabathon.

“I’m gonna have to leave my camera here. No one touches it, got it?” Robbie says, moving two fingers from his eyes to you and Charlie’s direction. 

You both nod, trying not to laugh but failing once Robbie leaves the room. After you stop laughing, you and Charlie stare at each other in tense silence. You are now suddenly glad Robbie has left. Charlie looks really good today, and you aren’t going to lie- you want to eat him alive.

“Is that camera off?” you breathe out, not moving your gaze away from Charlie’s.

“I’m sure Robbie turned it off. Why-”

You lurch forward, grabbing Charlie by his face and kissing him deeply. You run your tongue along his bottom lip, forcing his mouth open so you can entangle your tongue with his. Charlie’s hands fly to your waist, his fingers digging into it when you press your hips to his. Your fingers travel from Charlie’s face to the back of his head, gripping his hair softly as you deepen the kiss even more. You start pushing Charlie slightly backward until his ass hits a desk behind him. You’re both now kissing hotly, with open mouths as you pant for air. Your hands let go of Charlie’s hair and grip the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him more flush against you. You grind your hips to gauge his reaction, to which he lets out a strangled whine. 

Sliding your fingers out from underneath the belt loops, you make use of them to unbutton and unzip Charlie’s jeans deftly. He gasps when you pull him out of his underwear.

“Are you sure we should be doing this- oh.”

You look up at Charlie through your lashes as you lick his only slightly hardened tip. You feel him harden more when you start pumping his length before putting most of it in your mouth. Charlie’s hands occupy the back of your head, massaging your scalp gently as you take him deeper. His tip hits the back of your throat, and you gag but recollect yourself quickly. You take deep breaths through your nose as you relax your throat, taking all of Charlie in as you begin to bob your head up and down.

“Fuck,” Charlie exhales, throwing his head back.

Charlie has to remove one of his hands from your hair to brace himself on the desk behind him. You look up at him, admiring his angelic appearance when being pleasured. His face is all twisted up- his eyes are squeezed shut with his lips pressed together unless he lets out a hiss or moan. You feel Charlie twitch in your mouth as he starts to involuntarily thrust into your mouth.

You hum around his length, placing one of your hands on his tailbone, pushing it forward to allow his thrusts to go deeper. Charlie is a moaning mess, trying his best to keep his sounds quiet. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Charlie warns, pulling at your hair.

You suck in your cheeks, swallowing Charlie up as much as possible as he twitches one last time. He cums down your throat, and you swallow it up and milk him as much as possible until he can’t take it anymore.

Charlie pulls out of your mouth, tucking himself back into his underwear and pulling his jeans back up.

He runs a hand through his hair, “Jesus Christ. What’s gotten into you today?”

“You just look irresistible today, is all,” you joke, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand with a smile.

Charlie is about to return the favor when suddenly, you hear someone loudly running down the hall to the classroom. There’s an erratic knocking on the door as Robbie calls, “Guys!”

You furrow your eyebrows, looking at Charlie weirdly before walking to the door and opening it.

“Are you okay, Rob?” you ask, concerned.

Robbie looks at you bewildered, and his face turns red, “Uh. I was told something was going on in here via the camera feed. And I came right away.”

You’re confused for a moment, but then it dawns on you. The camera.

“Fuck, I thought it was turned off!” you cry, running to Robbie’s camera, which just so happened to be facing where you and Charlie were previously.

“Haha, yeah, well, it wasn’t,” Robbie cringes, following you to the camera and picking it up, “Sorry folks, the show is over!”

Robbie switches off the camera, which is weird for him to do during the day. But this situation warranted it.

Charlie awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, “You might want to delete that from your site, dude.”

“Good call,” Robbie nods, “Take my laptop and do it. I have to go back to detention. Mr. Applewhite only let me go because Kirby popped in and told us there was an emergency.”

The rest of the time slot for Film Club is spent in awkward silence and a feeling of horror as you and Charlie see how many people viewed and commented on the feed. You quickly edit today’s feed and delete the part where you gave Charlie the best head of his life. Too bad everyone saw it. 

School tomorrow was going to be hell. Was it worth it? Maybe…

[phaticserpent]

hello!

I've been thinking lately about what Ultron would be like as a husband, it's a little weird but I've been thinking about what he would be like as a husband hehehe

You're not weird :] I constantly imagine and think of him as a husband hehe Warning: suggestive??

After a lot of convincing himself to go through with it, he had proposed to you on a special day - the anniversary in which you two made the relationship official or when you two started dating. Forget going out and buying a diamond ring, he had made the jewelry for you, crafting it out of the leftover vibranium he had. The stone embedded was the same color as his eyes or optics.

Ever since you said, 'You have really pretty eyes'

He was shocked and in awe that someone liked them, something he grew to dislike until you would gaze into his eyes like it was everything you wanted to see.

The red crystal was shiny and reflective like his eyes and you adored it. Obviously you said 'yes' to the proposal, much to his relief. And the wedding was perfect, a simple ceremony between the two of you in a remote island where the two of you read out your vows under the setting sun. Then you spent some time stargazing and talking, it was generally a peaceful and intimate moment, something you and him would come to cherish.

It was a couple of months after your marriage, smiling at the ring on your finger as you woke up. Ultron had already gotten up, making breakfast and organizing around the house. He turned when he noted movement, smiling softly as he walked towards their shared bedroom.

"Good morning." He smiled.

You rubbed your eyes and smiled at him. "Hey! Good morning!" You reached out, your arms wrapping around his waist and resting your head on his chest. "Any plans for today?"

Ultron's hands rubbed your back as he hummed. "Mm, not at the moment. I have time so I can cook anything you like." He planted a soft kiss to your head. "How are you feeling?"

"Seeing how I'm walking and talking, not bad." You laughed. Ultron smirked at you.

"Guess I just have to do better." He leaned in, his voice dropping low with a sultry tone. His hand reached down to trace your jaw, his thumb lightly brushing against the soft of your cheek.

"Hah.....don't joke about something like that." You laughed nervously. You knew he wasn't joking and his slow smug smile proved that.

"Oh don't worry.....I'll show you how serious I am soon enough." He let out a low chuckle, gently guiding you to the dining room. "But first, you should eat and drink. I made you your favorite for breakfast." He hummed innocently, as if his promise to rearrange your guts wasn't just made. You laughed at his change in demeanor, finding it endearing as you walked alongside him, your hand intertwined with his.

"I love you."

He squeezed your hand as he smiled at you. "I love you."

Overall, his general demeanor and attitude doesn't change. He's still very caring and attentive, he tries to spend more time with you now that the two of you are officially engaged. Although he tries to still help the world one by one, you're his world.

It gets especially intimate in the bedroom (well, things have been intimate anyways but he's somehow doubled it). He would always hold your hands, his fingers intertwined with yours as he leans down to say, "You're mine. No one else's but mine...."

Taglist: @moonr3ap3r @thequeerwasteland

[taegularities]

colour me in: monochrome (teaser) | jjk (m)

Summary: The sky and flowers, and even your heart and your mind, have turned oddly colourless since you left the warmth he used to wrap you in.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; angst, fluff?, smut ➳ warnings: lovesickness, crying, coping, tension, a hospital scene but nothing too major, mention of a small accident, MORE tension, pov changes, guest appearance, someone flirts with oc 🤷‍♀️, jk’s attitude is painful, kissing... 🤐, arguments, pining/yearning, masturbation..., the ending x100 – more in the full post! ➳ wc: 992 (teaser); around 20k for the full chapter! ➳ a/n: HELLO. summary is subject to change, as always hehe. also, why does it feel like it’s been ages since cmi6? 😔 but here we are, and that’s just a smol piece of the full shitshow :’) thank you so much for supporting me and loving cmi so far; never stop, and lemme know what you think !! 🤍 

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

At some point as you bask in the distraction, blurring out your surroundings and the stinging scent of hospitals and disinfectant, it becomes easy to giggle the afternoon away.

Until… those surroundings change.

Until a body walks over the threshold; the first step reverberates in your ears.

You barely need to look up to feel his presence. Like he’s supposed to breathe side by side with you anyway; like your souls are connected, needing to co-exist in near proximity.

An invisible needle pricks different parts of your body, pulling you out of your daydream and into the harsh reality.

A reality where the shiver he elicits doesn’t have to do with affection anymore, but with fear.

Where your heart hammers against your ribcage violently, in the most malevolent way.

Where he isn’t supposed to stand in the same room as you, but ends up doing so anyway.

Fucking cruel.

You blink once, and look up from the cast; the motions of your fingers still momentarily.

It’s not like you didn’t know. After all, Yoongi’s their friend first and foremost — you’re more an intruder who would never see the injured man’s face ever again if it wasn’t for Jimin.

Of course you knew. You expected it.

But facing him facing you, with utmost surprise in his eyes and a tense torso, still hits you with a far worse and vicious pang than you anticipated.

Maybe, somewhere inside, you hoped for it.

But looking at the pain spreading on his face and the hesitant movements, like he wants to run away, makes you want to wish for today’s end.

A butter knife could cut the tension in the room. All eyes flit from him to you and back, then land amongst each other; but yours never divert from his.

And he holds your stare just as well.

One of his hands curls to a fist and releases just as fast. Your eyes witness the tiny movement before they wander up his arm, rushing past the tiger lily, the damn forget-me-nots, and halt when they’re back on his face.

You think that several minutes pass, that your heartbeat stops for an eternity that it’s not supposed to give out for.

But when Taehyung, having arrived with Jungkook, throws a timid greeting into the room, everything becomes alive again.

The slow-motion stops, and the few seconds you lost yourself in give way to casual chatter.

You avert your eyes from him the moment he does, not bothering for a single hello, a friendly how are you.

Instead, you watch Eun walk to the men, only nodding towards Jungkook before she lets Taehyung’s embrace surround her for a moment.

He plants a gentle kiss on her hair. Taehyung’s shy denial that he showcased at the last party has been disappearing bit by bit; he looks comfortable with her now.

You don’t know what they are to each other, but the affection is clear. The way his lips touched her hair… Jungkook would do the same whenever the two of you met—

“Nah, we just came like, fifteen minutes ago,” Eun says, answering a question you didn’t hear. “Rushed here, because he,” she gestures to Jimin, “wouldn’t stop whining.”

“You wouldn’t do the same if, I don’t know, I got hurt?” Jimin defends.

“Oh, absolutely. I’d break your other leg, too.”

Whoever’s in the mood to laugh, chuckles quietly. Jimin complains playfully, “I feel like everyone here just hates me.”

And so on. And so on.

On and on, easy conversations, friends chatting like nothing’s wrong.

And on the other side, him.

You.

The lightning striking between the two of you, even when you’re not looking at each other.

You feel too dizzy to find his eyes anyway; though you can tell that, for at least the first two minutes, his gaze darts back to you every now and then.

You don’t dare to steal a glance until he opens his mouth for the first time, answering a question Yoongi asked and you, once again, didn’t register.

He sounds soft. As though he coated his voice in honey, speaking patiently and soberly. Not with the same enthusiasm you’re used to, and the lack of happiness breaks something in you.

God, of all the ways you had to meet again…

“But, there’s a bell for a reason, right? That woman could’ve used it, and then I wouldn’t be here,” you hear Yoongi complain from a faraway distance; nevermind that his leg is mere inches from your fingertips.

“Or… pro-tip,” Taehyung says, “you put your phone away just once. Just while crossing a street at least.”

Jimin scoffs, and you move your eyes to him, feigning focus with an expression that you’re sure must be transparent. “Oh, he wasn’t crossing any street.”

Yoongi shrugs his shoulders, lowering his eyes in embarrassment as he adds with a pout, “I was walking on the bicycle lane…”

Your lips curl to a weak smile when your friends laugh, barely there, distracted by a chuckle’s sound that obliterates any other snicker. The brief, sneaky glance you finally pluck up some courage for falls on his lopsided smirk.

An ever-constant Jeon-Jungkook-feature.

It makes your chest burn.

It’s been so long since you heard him laugh.

The genuine sound of it brings back all familiarity that the prior silence eliminated. Of when you were the reason for it, a source of happiness, the firmest anchor for him…

Hard to believe he’s the same man who danced with you just a little while ago. Who looked at you like you were the centre of the universe, the oasis to save him from a drought rather than the rain.

Now, he’s not even talking to you.

And you, pathetic and heartbroken, can only reminisce and drown in flashing memories; trapped in the near past without knowing how he’s faring. Repeating the same wish in your head over and over again.

That…

You want him back. All of him.

HELLO okay so... how do we feel? where does it hurt (or not)? 🧐 

for some reason, this chapter has been easier to write than the last? angst really comes to me just like that 😭 nevertheless... do let me know what you think. new or old reader, your enthusiasm, theories and support encourage and motivate me like nothing else, so please do reblog and drop by to talk to meeee 🥺💕 

[angeliqueiguess]

“Focus!” (j.jh)

020. hope warnings: angsty, a hint of hope.

Jaehyun lay sprawled across the couch in his hotel suite, the steady hum of traffic and public transit filtering through the windows. The noise, though overwhelming, served as a strange comfort—at least it kept his mind from spiraling too far into his thoughts. But no matter how loud the city outside was, one thing remained constant: Y/n.

She was all he could think about. Every part of him longed for another chance, just one more, to say the things he had buried for too long. He wanted to drop the mask he had worn for years, to stop pretending and finally tell her how he really felt. But the idea of confronting her wasn’t what scared him most. No, the real fear was what would come after—what if she listened, only to walk away? What if, after everything, she decided to close the door on him for good?

The fear gnawed at him relentlessly, forcing him to play out every possible version of that conversation in his mind. He obsessed over what he would say, how he would say it, and whether any of it would make a difference. But no matter how much he planned, a voice in the back of his mind whispered the same doubt over and over: What if it’s already too late?

Lost in his thoughts, the sudden vibration of his phone on the table snapped him back to reality. His heart skipped a beat as he reached for it, fingers slightly shaky. He unlocked the screen, and there it was—the message he had been waiting for: "Meet me tomorrow..."

For a moment, everything around him faded into silence. The noise of the city, the weight of his doubts—gone. A small, hesitant smile spread across his face, the first genuine one in a long time, softening the exhaustion etched into his features.

Maybe—just maybe—this was his chance to finally make things right.

Calmness was finally beginning to settle in Y/n’s mind. She had followed her best friend’s advice, though she was already on her third cup of tea. Each sip had chipped away at the overwhelming anxiety that had kept her on edge, leaving only faint traces of nervousness that felt a little easier to manage. With a deep sigh, she set the cup aside and reached for her phone, which had been off for the past five hours. It had given her enough time to think more clearly about what she needed to do—and, more importantly, what might happen. She felt better, though not entirely.

As she powered the phone on, the screen lit up with a flood of notifications: likes, scattered comments on her posts, and a few new messages. Among them was one from Ten: “Text me when you feel better, boo 💕.”

A small, warm smile crept onto her face, wrapping her in a sense of comfort she hadn’t realized she needed. She couldn’t help but feel grateful for Ten, someone so patient and thoughtful, someone who always knew exactly what to say without demanding anything in return. In the middle of all her emotional chaos, he was a steady reminder that she wasn’t alone—that someone cared and was willing to stand by her, no matter what.

Leaning her head back against the couch, she held the phone loosely in her hands, breathing a little easier. The uncertainty of what lay ahead was still there, hovering, but that simple message from Ten was enough to ground her. It was a lifeline in the middle of the storm, and for now, that was exactly what she needed.

prev//next masterlist.

Angie's note: hiii im back at it again! (i'll try to update every day while i can hehe) hope you like this one! and dont forget to take care of yourselves!!! love ya! <3 <3 <3

Taglist: @apolloxxivmin @aerivrs @chan-yeoldelling @livingdoll-hara @cryingforjae @heavenjae @milanco @sibwol @neocupidd @minkyuncutie @miniature-tragedy @kukkurookkoo @kodasity @injunnie-lemon @thegracerammy @hahaechans

[mylahrins]

forget-me-nots, 05.

hi y/n,

i've been telling my mom about our letters, she seems to look forward to your responses as much as i do! today she went grocery shopping and there happened to be a really big sale on flower seeds. i'm not actually sure what kinds of flowers she bought, but she bought a lot for you. she wants to meet you someday! my little brother does too. if there's ever a time you can or want to, please come over for dinner! the seed packets should be in the envelope. i hope you're able to make some use of them!

speaking of seeds, i had some poppyseed muffins for breakfast this morning. i remember you mentioning liking muffins. my little brother has really been into baking (not so much cooking). he made a lot so ill bring you a small basket on monday, hopefully you'll be able to share with some of the gardening club members. if you'd like, i can bring you whatever my brother ends up baking, he always makes big bunches.

i've also been meaning to tell you that my coach wants to talk to you. he's that one sketchy looking guy that works at the convenience store near our school (don't tell him i said that). he's been asking about the flowers you arranged for kiyoko and wants to order some as well. if you can, please come by during practice when you're not busy!

take care, sugawara

about the flowers!

➤ poppies: i wasn't originally gonna do one of these, but i mentioned poppyseeds so i thought that i might as well! poppies overall have a lot of war symbolism. though they also hold meaning to things like death and sleep and peace. red, white, and black poppies especially tend to represent the fallen soldiers from past war efforts, most notably ww1. i found that purple poppies actually represent the fallen and hurt animals from war (which was really sad to learn!!). BUT!!! poppies aren't all about death and war. colors like pink can symbolize platonic love and sympathy while orange symbolizes good health and regeneration!

masterlist | next | back

a/n: hi guys sorry it took so long to update!!! im on vacation and away from home rn so the format might be a little weird. ill fix it once it get back!! also im pretty sure this is the first chapter update since i edited the "theme" of my fic.. what do you guys think??? is it cute? hehe ANYWAYS thanks for patiently waiting, i think this'll be the last chapter i write until i get back home though... family vacations and writing fanfiction doesn't really mix well LMAO but no promises! if i get bored maybe ill write the next chapter too!! ALSO IM SO SORRY IF YOU WEREN'T TAGGED IN PAST CHAPTERS!!! i just learned how to fix my tag system 😭😭 so im making sure to tag everyone correctly now </333

taglist: @yenonnoff @softpia @ryeyeyer @shoyosh @wqnsho @wyrcan @hisfuture @guitarstringed-scars @froyaoya @fiannee @02shuuu @miyamoratsumuu @walllflowerrrsss @ellizasworld @dearneverland @19calicos

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[nebulousbrainsoup]

ooh ooh ooh! If it is not too much... can I ask for a headcanon for "Secret Admirer: What would they do as a secret admirer" for a member of ateez? Have a good day hehe <3

(~Sky, on anon <3)

see but if you give me the freedom to pick a member, i'm gonna make us both delulu about it. joong it is.

Kim Hongjoong: Secret Admirer

fulfilled as part of my 150(ish) followers event.

PAIRING: hongjoong x gn!reader TAGS/WARNINGS: none! GENRE: headcanon, fluff/romance RATING: G WORD COUNT: 630 masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

✵ this is like a game to him

✵ he’s passionate, he goes for what he wants and he gets it done, so if he’s being a secret admirer instead of just asking you out, it’s because he wants to have fun with it

✵ he has a signature, right from the start; the same phrase is always somewhere on the packages he sends you, along with a swipe of whatever nail polish is currently on his finger

✵ so you’ll only figure it out if you pay enough attention

✵ whether or not you notice his little detail, you do pay enough attention to notice that the delivery guy is always the same

✵ it doesn’t matter if it’s bakery treats, flowers, a stuffed animal, or a new bottle of perfume/cologne; the same boba eyes and sheepish smile always peek out at you

✵ i think he’d only do this with someone he’s known for a while bc he’d need to know all of your favorites. he isn’t going to halfass this and be basic about it

✵ although, if he doesn’t know you well enough to know your favorite flower, the victorian flower language will always come to his rescue

✵ truly don’t think you ever receive a rose from this man unless he’s handing it to you himself

✵ the first bouquet he sends you is an arrangement of pink, red and white carnations (representing fascination) and baby’s breath (innocence). the white (pure love/faithfulness) and pink (i’ll never forget you) dominate the spread, with a maximum of three red carnations to hint at his own passionate nature.

✵ he’ll also send you gardenias (secret love) if he catches wind of you being particularly frustrated with his games, just to tease you

✵ he also starts growing pansies (thoughtfulness) so if you’re having a rough week he can just drop by your desk/home/workplace and leave it for you with your favorite sweets

✵ morning glories (love in vain/affection) for if he’s feeling particularly dramatic and scorned

✵ it all seems random to you, but the amount of work this man is putting in behind the scenes is actually insane

✵ forget the lore binder, he has a you binder

✵ he’s ordering things weeks in advance, talking you out of buying things he’s already bought you, etc

✵ at one point the next book in a series you’ve been reading shows up the day after you’ve finished its prequel and you’re mildly concerned

✵ it’s 4d chess in this man’s brain trying to win you over

✵ if/when you finally start to figure it out, he’s completely oblivious

✵ seonghwa has to tell him, bc you cornered the poor man after the latest delivery and asked him outright if your admirer was hongjoong

✵ he didn’t know what to say and scurried off without a word, so you knew

✵ he does freak out about it a little bit, bc he got a little too caught up in the game and forgot there was, in fact, a goal

✵ a few days later, seonghwa delivers you a handwritten note with the first word of his signature phrase on it to you and the first clue to a city-wide scavenger hunt

✵ at the second to last stop, you get the link to a playlist of songs that remind him of you

✵ by the end, hwa’s laden with bags from the gifts hongjoong never got to give you

✵ and once you get there, hongjoong is waiting for you at your favorite shop/cafe/park with your beverage and sweet of choice in front of him, a blue hyacinth (constancy) and a red rose in hand

✵ he had a whole speech planned but he’s too overwhelmed and just grinning, so all he gets out before you’re wrapping him up in your arms is

✵ “i hope you’re not disappointed”

TAGLISTS: permanent [open]: @justhere4kpop @tastymintchocolate @soul-jae @ad0rechuu @seonghwaddict ateez [open]: @pyeonghongrie-main @thatonenoona

banners again from @cafekitsune

© July 2023 nebulousbrainsoup | all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my work.

[seokjins-luigi]

i hate everything about you | pt. 2 | pjm

・pairing: ex!jimin x ex!f!reader

・genre: exes to ? | angst | smut

18+

・word count: 4.2k

・summary: accidentally, you bump into your ex who, mind you, previously cheated on you. so you're 99% sure the only feeling you have left for him is sheer hate. but the 1% leaves you questioning.

・banner: by the amazing @/kookdiaries

・A/N: i'm very sorry for making you wait for so long ): but finally, here's part 2 of this story. i wanna thank everyone for the amazing feedback 💜

again: here's a playlist for y'all to play as you read it, if you want to hehe

as always, thank you to my soulmate @primadonnasdream for helping me build my stories. hope you guys enjoy the reading :))

if you wanna be added to any of my taglists, just leave a comment here. feedback is always appreciated, sweeties 💜

・permanent taglist: @goldenhoney-cas @yuugehn

・taglist:@imluckybitches @bbtsficrecs @minijagiya @jackinthethroat @arckyive @chimchimmarie @bex-92br @rkvi @hoseok666 @joonsytip @callmejimmeo @koreanaestheticc @tea4sykes @pamzn @nikkiordonez12 @withluvjm @natalie-rdr @south09 @hannahdanyelle @vonvi-blog @leticiaesteveslp @sheylamc @kooklovee

You like to think of yourself as a not complicated type of person. Most of the time, you’re logic-oriented, try not jumping into conclusions and, above all else, you don’t waste your precious time obsessing over things that are outside of your control. 

This has been working for your chill personality for your entire life just fine, but when it comes to Park Jimin, none of it applies to you. 

Today, you wake up feeling extremely tired after the awful night of sleep you obviously had. Unfortunately, you couldn’t think about anything else other than fucking Park Jimin. The things he had said kept replaying in your mind in a never ending loop. Totally obsessing over it and this is so unlike you, it hurts. 

You watched the dark shades of the night turn into the golden shades of the morning through the thin curtains of your bedroom window. What did he mean when he asked you if you still had no idea? Was he trying to manipulate you or was there something you really didn’t know about the situation?

As much as you keep trying to convince yourself that you don’t want to dig into it, you know that you very much want to dig into it. You nor only just want, you need to. If anything, it’ll give you closure. Although it sounds bizarre and you honestly didn’t have the faintest idea of what this could be about, it really felt like some part of Jimin was being honest.

“I wanna tell you everything”, he actually said that. Maybe there is something to be told. Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking, maybe you are only falling under his spell all over again. But the fact that you were the one who did not let him speak last night is eating you alive, now you’re anxious and nervous and it’s all your own fault.

You were just sure things could not go on like this, because it was starting to affect your work. You kept losing focus on your meetings with clients, forgetting about important tasks or overlooking details that should not be overlooked. This is where you draw the line. You can’t allow Jimin’s influence in your life to go this far. One time was enough, you can’t allow him to mess with your head again. 

After pondering about it for hours, you decide to go looking for him. You know the only way out of this spiraling mode you’re in right now is to have an honest and thorough conversation with Jimin, because you deserve to know the truth. 

When you arrive at the bar, the place Jungkook took you last night, you see Jimin’s car parked nearby. It was almost exactly six o’clock and you’re sure he had arrived at work already, he’s always been a responsible guy. Luckily, as if destiny was giving you a hand, not even a minute later you see the glass door of the bar being opened and a second later Jimin passes through. 

You see your ex heading towards his car, he doesn’t seem to have seen you across the street. You hesitate for a second, but you force yourself to go to him. 

Each step you take in his direction makes you want to just run away as fast as you can, almost as if you can’t take the anticipation. You need this. You need closure. You can do this, Y/n.

As you got near, you saw him looking for something in the glove compartment, still unaware of your presence. You take a deep breath and call his name.

“Jimin?” You’re surprised with how confident you sounded. 

He snapped his head in your direction, confusion stamped all over his face.

“Y/n?” He furrowed his eyebrows, turning to you as he spoke. “What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” You looked him in the eyes and he returned the deepness of your own. “Please?”

“Y/n, about last night… I’m really sorry. I was drunk, I shouldn’t have gone there and bothered you with my shit”.

“I can forgive you for last night if you tell me the whole story”, he looked down to his feet before you could finish the sentence, breaking eye contact with you. “Jimin-ssi, I deserve to know”.

He turns his back, delicately closing the door of his car. He, then, turns back to you, finally looking into your eyes once again, the surprise from his eyes is gone and you’re not sure of what you see there. 

“All I can say is I’m sorry for last night, but”, he leans and rests his body against his car, displaying an annoyingly nonchalant expression on his fucking face as he shrugs. “There’s nothing to tell”.

At this moment you remember why you hate his ass. It’s ridiculous how he can look you straight in the eyes and lie to you after the scene he pulled hours ago in your house. 

You take a deep, frustrated breath.

“Fucking bullshit! Thanks for reminding me how much of an asshole you are, Jimin. I almost forgot”, you smile dryly. “I hope next time you drink, you don't show up at my doorstep whining again, ok? Next time I’ll call the fucking police”.

With a smirk, he declares. “There'll be no next time, Y/n. Rest assured”.

“Well, praise the lord, huh?” You reply in a sharp tone, not allowing him to say his piece. “I regret every single tear I’ve wasted on you. You… You were the worst mistake I’ve ever made”.

He glares at you with contempt plastered all over his face, his plump lips tightened as his brows rose. You wish punching people in the face didn’t cause as much trouble as it does, because you can swear to all gods that have ever existed that the only thing you want at this moment is to punch this expression off his face. 

“Say that again”, he challenges you, brows still in the same position as before, with a darker shade of brown on his eyes.

You refuse to give him the satisfaction. 

“You’re not deaf”, now you’re the one who answers challengingly, raising your own brows as you try to speak calmly. “Next time we bump into each other, do me the favor of pretending you don’t know me”.

You turn your back to him and march back to your own car, hating yourself for dragging your ass all the way to this fucking bar again, only to have him mock you. You rush back into your car, knowing fully well that there’s a big chance that Jimin’s still observing you, so you can’t allow yourself to cry. You were not even sad, you’re genuinely pissed, but unfortunately you’re an angry crier. 

You could run over him if it wasn’t a crime. As you are about to connect the keys to the ignition, you hear a soft knock on your window and you just know it’s him. Rolling your eyes, you turn your head in Jimin’s direction and he gestures, asking you to roll your window down.

You do as he says and hiss impatiently. “What?”

“One last fuck and we’ll forget about each other”, he licks his lips in an obvious attempt to make you feel something.

Unfortunately, you do. But fortunately, you’re pretty good at hiding your emotions when you really want to. So you just throw your head back and let out a very ironic laughter. 

“What’s so funny, Y/n?” He asks you, with a piercing look in his dark eyes, tilting his head to the side slightly. 

“I just told you you were the worst mistake I’ve made, man…” You let out another laugh, less energetically. “Are you into degradation now? I’m not really into that kind of kink, sorry”.

“Oh, come on, Y/n. You fucking love angry sex”, he declared in a lower tone, with a raspy voice that he knows makes you feel things. 

He has a point, you do love angry sex. As you keep silent, Jimin continues.

“Let me take you to my place, it’s just around the corner…” his eyes focus on your lips as he speaks. “Let me fuck you, until you forget why you’re mad at me. You know how good I am… Just this one last time, then you can go back to pretending I don’t exist”.

You do know how good he is. You hate to admit, even if it’s just to yourself, but he’s more than good. Your sex life with Jimin has always been great, actually, that’s why you got even more hurt when he cheated. You used to think you were enough for him, that you satisfied him as much as he did to you. Apparently not. And that broke your confidence and self esteem in a way that you’re still trying to recover.

You’re pissed at him, but you can’t deny that you’re still insanely attracted to this motherfucker, regardless of your history. Your mind desperately says no, but your but urges you to say yes.

“Why would I say yes to this ridiculous proposition?” You scoff, trying to mask the fact that this is you already starting to give in.

“Simply because you know you want me to fuck you”, he declares with a knowing smirk.

The way he’s looking at you right now is definitely not helping you to stay focused on maintaining your sense of dignity. His plump lips slightly parted, forming a deliciously attractive dirty grin, his eyes intensely glued onto your own lips as he waits for your answer. You can’t deny how magnetic he feels.

He leans further in your direction, cupping your face with one of his hands, running his thumb over your mouth. You are simply unable to stop yourself from delicately parting your lips, taking his thumb between them and sucking it softly. He lets out a heavy breath, locking his dark eyes with you as your skilled tongue runs along his finger.

“Let’s go, babe”, he almost begged this time.

He didn’t have to ask you again, unfortunately. He opened your car door and next thing you knew, he was dragging you up the stairs of his building until you saw yourself inside his small apartment. 

As soon as you were inside, he pushed you against the front door and started kissing you hungrily. Just like the last kiss inside your place last night, it feels like Jimin is hungry for you, it feels like he can devour you right then and there. His tongue tastes yours with desperation, making it difficult for you to breathe. One of his hands lands beside your head, on the door, and the other travels up your body, from your waist to your boobs. 

The kiss is messy and intense, not only for him, but for you too, your mind can’t seem to focus on anything other than Jimin. It feels like time and space aren’t real when you’re with him, just like it was then. 

Reaching for the hem of his shirt, you tug it in order to get rid of it as quickly as possible, getting rid of yours in the middle of the way too. 

“You missed this, didn't you?” Jimin places your hand on his abs as he whispers with a cocky grin.

“I think you missed these much more”, you reply with the same amount of cockyness as him, guiding his hands to your boobs.

“Oh, I fucking did”, he whispers again, mouth already glued to your neck as he kneads your breasts.

In the back of your mind, a little annoying voice tries to warn you, saying you will regret this later. But, honestly, who gives a fuck? Life’s hard enough for you to worry about future regrets. You’ll hate yourself for fucking Jimin when the times comes, right now, all you want to focus is on his devious tongue and the crazily good patterns it’s drawing all over your neck. You’re so lost into Jimin’s magic that you don’t even realize you let a moan escape your lips driving your ex even more mad.

His mouth is back on yours and he pushes you towards the couch sitting in the corner of his small living room, throwing you carelessly against it. His tongue is already pushing his way between your lips, you close your eyes, focusing only on the intensity of Jimin’s kiss. It feels like you’re back to the beginning of everything, this kiss feels like what it felt like kissing Jimin for the first time. The passion is still there and you will deal with it later.

“Let’s get rid of this, shall we?” He asks you, pulling the strap of your bra down, almost not waiting for your nod of approval. 

You both sloppily get rid of the rest of your clothes, tossing them carelessly on the floor of your ex’s living room. Next thing you knew, he had two fingers in you and your nipple in his mouth. He sucked and licked your nipples in a passion that had you gasping and his fingers were bent inside your thoroughly wet pussy. He knows exactly what he’s doing with his fingers and his mouth, he knows exactly how you like it and that’s why it feels so good. Being with someone who knows you and what you like is so much better than spending the night in a stranger's bed like in the countless one-night stands you’ve had the past few months.

“You’re so fucking wet right now, babe… It’s ridiculous how much you want me to fuck you, huh?” He teases you, lips brushing lightly against your already sensitive nipple as he speaks.

You let out a loud moan this time, staring back at his intense black eyes, and nod. 

“I do, Ji”, in a distressed attempt for grounding, you scratch his back with your nails, not minding if it’ll leave him marked or not. He gasps and you continue. 

“Please, just fuck me, Ji-”.

“Of course, babe, anything you ask”, he cuts you mid sentence.

He pulled his fingers out of you and, before you could whine about it, he shut you up with another messy kiss, but also full of desire. Without breaking the kiss, he lifted both your bodies up, switching places with you on the couch. He positioned himself between your legs, making the tip of his cock touch your wet and throbbing folds.

“Rid me, Y/n”, he asks you, half tenderly, half assertive. “Show me how much you miss me”.

You felt something inside you shake. This is so fucking wrong.

But without thinking too much about it, you let your weight down on his cock, feeling the delicious stretch all at once. Both of your breaths falter, basking in the divine sensation of him being inside you. 

Your hips started moving on their own, as the pleasure started to consume your mind completely. You had your eyes on Jimin’s beautiful face, now fully taken over by lust, darkening his features in an irresistible way. His plump lips parted and he moaned, making you forget completely about everything else around you. 

Your movements were starting to become desperate, feeling the way his cock fills you up completely, as he tries to pick up your speed with his own skillful hips. Both of you were loudly showing how good you can give it to each other.

His hand travels up your body, as he lifts his upper body to reach the back of your neck. He sticks his tongue out and licks the side of your neck, the warm and moist sensation makes you close your eyes instantly. 

“If you don’t take it slow, I won’t last much longer, babe…” He whispers, as he grasps your hair tightly. “Can I take over now?”

You hum. You love being in control, but you love it even more when Jimin is in control. He instantly switches positions with you, thrusting hard the moment your back touches the couch, in a slower, but deeper pace compared to how you were riding his cock just now. 

The intensity of his thrusts have you clenching around his cock. Shaky breaths leave both of your lips, both of you too focused on the ecstatic feeling of being together. The sounds of your wet pussy being snapped against his cock, his balls slapping against your naked ass mixed with your moans and pants.

“I could…” He thrusts you one more time, deeper than before. “Fuck this pussy forever”.

You feel your walls clenching tighter around his cock, not missing a single inch of his length being pushed inside of you. 

“Look how… how good you take it, babe”, he groans in your ear with his cock buried deep inside of you.

You feel his cock twitch and another moan escapes his parted lips. You’re both almost out of breath. You know he won’t last much longer now if he continues to hammer you in this intensity. Your body tingles with pleasure with every single thrust of his hips.

At this point, you’re just a moany mess. Your heart is racing and in every pump you can feel the adrenaline flowing through your veins. Jimin’s thrusts start to become desperate and out of pace, while you can feel the burning sensation building in your lower stomach. 

One of your hands travels to your clit, your head snaps back when your fingers finally touch your throbbing sex, feeling the divine sensation spreading throughout your body. Jimin replaces your fingers with his own, with a cocky grin hanging on his swollen lips.

“Fucking slut, look at you…” Moving  his fingers in circular patterns as he pants and thrusts and gazes at you with his dark, lusty eyes. “You still like it messy, huh?”

“Ye-”.

Before you could finish, the electric sensation takes over your whole body and all you can focus on is the pleasure taking over you. You whimper as the orgasm spreads through your veins, screaming Jimin’s name. Clenching even harder around his dick as your pussy spilt out your juices all over his twitching cock. 

He bites your shoulder and you feel like he’s on the brim of cuming too.

“Ji, I- I want you to fill me up”, you whispered in between your pants. “I want it all”.

“Y-Yeah?” You know he’s struggling to hold back by the sound of his shaky, low pitched voice. “Are you gonna take all of it like the good girl that you are, babe?”

You want him so bad. You want to feel everything you missed out on in the last months away from him. 

“I will, Ji, please”, you looked at him, eyes pleading as you gave yourself completely to him. Once again. 

He thrusted deep inside of your pussy one last time, allowing his orgasm to take over him and cuming deep inside of you, painting your clenching walls white. Both of you are too out of breath to move, so you just take your time breathing and trying to recompose yourselves before Jimin pulls out of you. Sweat covering both of your naked bodies on a weekday afternoon. 

You closed your eyes, feeling the tiredness and soreness, but also the delightfulness and the lingering sensation of pleasure. This motherfucker was right, what you two have is not easy to find. This chemistry.

You open your eyes when you feel Jimin’s body weight being lifted up from yours. You take your time looking at him and he is still just as beautiful as you remember. Not just hot, that’s obvious. But he’s also beautiful like very few men in the world are.

He sees you’re staring and smiles cockily. 

“Too handsome, huh?” 

“Unfortunately, I have to agree”, you roll your eyes, almost playfully. 

He laughs softly and throws himself on you again, laying his head between your breasts and hugging you. It’s ridiculous to admit, but it just feels right. 

Both of you remain silent. The only thing that can be heard are both of you trying to catch your breaths, but you don’t even pay attention to that. You’re nervous. There are so many questions you wanna ask and even though this feels right at this moment, this man made you suffer like hell not so long ago. 

“Ugh, I don’t wanna get up”, he declares in a lazy voice, his face still between your breasts. “You almost make me want to miss work”.

You sigh. This is too much, too domestic, too nostalgic, but you want to be right here, exactly like you are, in his arms. All the things he said to you yesterday flash through your mind. How he said he missed you, how he begged for you two to talk and you refused to listen. You were hurting so much you couldn’t see through the pain and resentment. 

“I’ve missed this”, you finally confess in a whisper.

But you’re sure he could hear you, because his arms closed even tighter around you.

“Me too, babe”, he murmurs the answer. 

Your hand travels up to his silky hair, running your hands through his locks. You’re not sure how long you just stay together like that, enjoying each other’s existence silently, but you finally break the silence.

“We still have a lot to talk about, don't we?”

He lifts his head to look you in the eyes. “Do we?”

“You think we don’t?” The protesting tone was clear as you voiced the question, specially because you didn't find anything genuine in his eyes when he asked you that question.

“We don’t”, he averts his gaze, laying his head almost between the crook of your neck and your shoulder.

“Jimin, look at me…” You try to sound as firm as possible, but it sounds more like a plea than a command.

“Baby… Just- Let’s not do this”, he whispers. “I can’t”.

You lift your body with your elbows so you could look at him, making him untie his arms around you and sit as well.

“What do you mean, Jimin-ssi?” You try again, speaking slowly so your nerves don't get the best of you. 

You don’t want to believe that this is true. He can’t treat you like you’re some random booty call.

“Hey!” He tries giving you an obviously empty smile. “What happened to Ji? I prefer when you call me Ji”.

Also sitting up, bending your legs in order not to touch his anymore. The way he’s speaking to you right now, the way he’s looking at you with empty eyes and an empty smile. You know where this is going and you feel sick to your stomach with the idea that you allowed Jimin to get in your head again and, once more, you end up hurt.

“And I prefer when you tell me the truth!” You raise your voice now, trying to find on his face any signs that you might be wrong.

“I thought I had made myself clear when I said I have nothing to tell you”, he states firmly, averting his gaze from yours. “I have already asked you to forget about this”.

You feel a huge lump in your throat, trying your best not to allow the tears to form in the corner of your eyes. You are not crying in front of Park Jimin ever again. You refuse. Even though it hurts just like it hurted before, you’ll save your tears for another time.

“Really? After fucking me, you’re just gonna ask me to get the fuck out of your life like nothing happened?” 

You watch his face contort, like he was profoundly thinking about what to say next. You suddenly see his expression change and you know this is his sassy snarky side taking over, nothing serious comes out of him when his eyes reflect his darker side like that. 

“I was horny, you were horny. I thought it was clear it wasn’t a bargain”, he still doesn’t look at you while he speaks. “It was just sex”.

And he shrugs. It’s clear to you that this shit’s been a fucking joke to him. A sick fucking joke you never expected him to be capable of. This is not the Jimin you spent years with, the one you loved, the one you wanted to get married to at some point in the past. 

His words cut through you. Just sex. 

You hate everything about this Jimin.

“Of course it was just about sex… I’m sorry if I misunderstood the situation, Jimin. ” You push his legs aggressively so you can get out of the couch. “Excuse me, I wanna leave”.

You start collecting your underwear and clothes from the floor of his stupid house, trying your best to block the tears away. You dress yourself hastily, while Jimin watches you in silence. You head for the door, but he holds your arm lightly, trying to stop you.

“Hey, Y/n… Don’t be like that, I’ll feel guilty”, he pleads softly again.

“Get your hands off of me”, you groan between your teeth without turning to face him. “Also, fuck off”.

He lets go of your arm and you leave his apartment as soon as you can, slamming the door behind you. You rush back to your car and drive away as fast as you can, only allowing yourself to cry your anger and pain out when you’re tucked in bed later that day.

[simpxxstan]

perfect complements (ch. 4)

pairing: professor!seungcheol x professor!f.reader

genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, angst, smut

series summary: four and a half years of working together breeds familiarity, resentment, and everything in between. it's almost like living together.

series word count (till current chapter): 10.4k

chapter word count: 3.1k

rating: 18+

warnings: slight bickering, description of makeout between seungcheol and oc (not with reader) and vague descriptions of fingering. curse words being used.

a/n: i'm sorry for the late update! i've been going through a hard time these few days, but i'm trying to distract myself! this is a filler chapter ig? i'm sorry if it's taking too long for any action between the reader and coups to start, but i really want to build the story up. it's slow burn for a reason hehe thank you so much for reading! &lt;3

taglist for the fic: @minhui896

series masterlist

Seungcheol’s phone pops up with a notification as he makes his way to Dr. Lee’s chambers. He knows you’ve already been here once before, but he has actively avoided the staffroom all day so that he doesn’t get caught in your and Minhee’s crossfire again. It’s best for him to keep his distance when you’re pissed. He knows, no matter what the reason, you’ll end up bursting at him.

“Hello, Prof. Choi. How are you today?”

“Same as usual, I guess. I can’t believe it’s Valentine's Week already.”

Dr. Lee laughs, their laugh slightly whimsical but purposeful. Seungcheol feels oddly comforted by the Counsellor but also a little nervous. He’s being constantly analysed, and it’s not a good feeling. But they know how to get him at ease too. 

“Why? Is Valentine’s Week important to you?”

“Aah well. If I don’t tell you, she will. It reminds me of what happened the first February I was here.”

Seungcheol had absolutely no clue what was going on in college. Perhaps being away from the dating market for so long had made him forget all about this. Plus, his mind was all caught up with the conference. It was the first time he was getting to organise something in this college, and as a new Professor, he had to impress everyone. He had the crazy urge to prove himself worthy of the post: many had said he was too young for it, but he was determined to prove them wrong. So when Prof. Y/L/N had offered that the two of you take up the duties this time to organise the department’s Annual Winter Conference, he had readily taken up the opportunity. 

Of course, everything was fine with Prof. Y/L/N now. You had explained to him that you were having a shitty day and couldn’t control your emotions, given your periods had been giving you hell, and the very day after that, you had both gone to watch the new play being performed by the University’s Drama Club, together. Along with a lot of laughs and a lot of meaningful conversations, Seungcheol had hoped he had made his first friend in University. The academic atmosphere had daunted him at first, since he was the youngest, but seeing you had made him braver. He had someone by his side to help him, instead of judging him. 

It also helped that he found you unimaginably beautiful. 

Seungcheol was, by no means, an innocent boy. Yes, he hadn’t dated properly for very long, but he was no playboy either. He liked to keep his commitments minimal, given that most of his 20s had been spent cooped up in the library, drowning in coffee and real analysis theorems. He had enjoyed pursuing academics, but it had effectively stolen his social life from him. His romantic life, too. His love life had ended with his undergraduate course, and since then, he had been happily married to his thesis. 

Except, now. Now, things were different. Because you had entered his life. Not just that, Seungcheol had found himself economically and socially stable after several years. He could finally spend time with his family, live in his own rented apartment, take care of his pet dog as he liked, and eat out almost twice a week, and still have enough money to indulge in a new game being released at the end of the month. Meeting you at this perfect time made him want to go all in, and take his chances at love. After all, he was twenty seven now. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes again, would he?

Naturally, he couldn’t give up on the chance to co-convene the conference with you this year. He really respected you- both from a professional point of view, and personally; well, as much as he did know about you. It wasn’t much, you weren’t a great oversharer, but there was one thing that he knew for sure- he enjoyed spending time with you, and he was looking forward to meeting you every day. 

“Seungcheol! You’re here. Are we good to go? I think the guest speakers are about to arrive in a few minutes!” You were smiling nervously, but still looked incredibly put together. Your hair was tied up in a bun, revealing your soft cheeks and the new earrings you had donned just for the event. This was the first time he was seeing you wear a dress, and he could feel himself tipping a little more into this mini project of his. 

“Y/N, please don’t worry! I’ve got the volunteers briefed, and everything will work like clockwork.”

_

Unfortunately for Choi Seungcheol, everything did not work like clockwork.

It was the last hour of the conference, the time for the students to gather in a group discussion moderated by the two of you, and discuss your findings, thoughts and questions about the presentations and papers presented by the various guests of the day. With the majority of the workload done, and surrounded by familiar faces, Seungcheol felt much relaxed, and had rolled up his sleeves and settled down into a chair for the first time that day. After running around all day, this informal session felt like a blessing. 

You sat down next to him, and all the other students settled down in a scattered, approximate circle. The flow of the conversation began easily, with you smiling and picking up the pace. The students, eager and wide-eyed, kept chattering, and the enthusiasm reminded Seungcheol of himself. The discussion was largely informal, and it felt like a group of likeminded people sitting together, not a hierarchical group of students and professors. It was an atmosphere that made him very happy. 

Of course, it also made him very happy that you seemed to be more and more comfortable with him as the day passed by. It manifested in little things, but they were enough to make Choi Seungcheol feel giddy like a schoolboy again. Like how you keenly listened to his comments, and appreciated his thought process. How you contributed to every discussion he initiated, how you ensured he didn’t get left out in the discussions. How you touched his hand once while asking him about something. How you unintentionally (or intentionally?) stared for a second too long at him, and he had caught you in the act. 

It was an extremely successful day, he concluded, and he went home feeling the happiest he had been in recent times. He had felt included in the University community, and that was what he had truly wanted for all these days. It felt so relieving. 

But all that was going to change the next morning. 

He arrived at college in a happy mood, not realising why suddenly there was a galore of roses being carried around the college campus by students. He grabbed his usual Americano from the canteen, before making his way to the staffroom, delightfully greeting every student and professor he met on the way. The campus seemed to be bursting with energy today, but he simply couldn’t realise why. Not that he cared. He was just as energetic today-

“Care to explain this, Prof. Choi?”

You’re standing there, hands on your hips, Wonwoo, the Dean from Social Sciences next to you, and the other professors of the department also in that room. He can’t make out what’s written in the letter that you’re holding up, but as he steps closer, he can see it:

CHEOLLIE AND Y/N SITTING ON A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!

Below the words, there were small roses drawn and pictures of iconic scenes from the k-drama, ‘Boys Over Flowers’ stuck on the page. 

“What’s this?” He asked, still clueless. Wonwoo stepped up, and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s the first day of Valentine’s Week. Someone left this on Y/N’s desk…” 

The dots finally connected in Seungcheol’s head. The students had… shipped them? It was surprising, funny but extremely absurd. He had the urge to laugh it off, but then he stopped himself seeing the furious look on your face. He realised it had offended you in some way, although he saw it as a joke. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N… I don’t know-”

“Do you realise how unprofessional this is? How desperate this makes me look?”

“Desperate?”

“Of course they thought a woman would fall in love with the first man they saw entering the campus. It’s disrespectful, Choi Seungcheol, do you not see that?”

“I think it’s not as big as you think. It’s just a joke by the students-”

“Joke? Wonwoo, please explain to him.”

Wonwoo enlarged his eyes, but quickly took the signal and asked Seungcheol to step out with him. 

“I swear I didn’t do anything!”

“I know Seugncheol. I’ve known you for long enough to know you’re not dumb to seduce your colleague. But everyone can see your crush on Y/N.”

It was Seungcheol’s turn to finally be shocked. “What? It’s really nothing like that!”

“Okay. Even if I accept what you’re saying… I’m not saying you’re at fault for this. Kids pull this kind of prank all the time. They shipped me and another Professor from the Linguistics department for years, before everyone got to know that she was gay and I was marrying someone else. But I understand why Y/N may feel sensitive about these things. All I’m suggesting is-” he raised his hand to prevent Seungcheol from cutting in, “keep a little bit of distance? Until the rumours die out and she feels comfortable again. We can’t have a hostile environment in the department, can we?”

_

Seungcheol chuckles at the end of the story. 

“Look where we are now.” 

He had recounted almost all of the incident with Dr. Lee, albeit not going into too much details about his love interest in Prof. Y/L/N.

“It’s a very interesting story, I must say,” Dr. Lee had a smile of their face as well, seeming quite amused by the narration. “So you liked her?”

“A little. Quickly snubbed out, as you can make out. After these things, I kept my distance, and obviously, whatever inkling of… feelings had emerged… died out. I was back to neutral within a few weeks.”

“And what about your friendship?”

“Friendship?”

“Your relationship. Did it ever go back to normal? As it was before this thing?”

Seungcheol pauses. He’s not quite sure. Perhaps because it’s been so long, and he has largely forgotten? He doesn’t know how exactly the relationship would have been even if the incident hadn’t happened. There would be other things to destroy it, of course, as time had shown. 

“I don’t think so. But then, it’s hard to define normal. We were friendly, like new colleagues who instantly don’t hate each other are. But since then, as we worked together for longer, and as my… emotions became absolutely neutral, we discovered irks in each other pretty soon. We never ended up being as friendly as then, again. I don’t think we would’ve been anyway.”

“And if she had liked you back?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He prefers not to think about it, a situation he could envision in only an alternate, distant universe. 

“She could never.”

It’s the truth. He knows it’s best not to lie to Dr. Lee. 

_

Valentine’s Week is one of the few weeks in the year when the entire city is bustling. There’s the excitement of new love, hope of requiting crushes, and the thrill of the chase, all punched together. It’s also the beginning of spring, and Kkuma, on such days, really enjoys walking through parks, running in fresh green grass dazzling with dew, and making Seungcheol run after her. 

Today, she’s dressed up with tiny pink clips sparkling in her carefully trimmed white hair. Today, Seungcheol isn’t running behind her. He’s instead sitting on the bench, surfing through his phone, as Kkuma runs small laps around him. There’s no chance of her straying away, she’s too dependent on him for survival and she loves being spoilt. 

“Oppa?”

Seungcheol looks up from his phone to see Hyerin standing in front of him, dressed in tracks. Running in the park, clearly. “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you came to the park?”

“I came here for Kkuma-ya. You?”

“Can't go to the gym these days. So I’ve switched to running. Mind if I join you?” Seungcheol shifts up on the bench, and Hyerin flops down on it, next to him. “Tired? Take a sip from my Americano-” he brings the coffee to her lips, and she sucks in through the straw. “Aah, too much ice!” He giggles, before taking a sip himself. “I like it this way. You don’t have to drink it.” “Yaah! Oppa!” She snatches it a bit, sips again, and puts it back in Seungcheol’s hands. 

“Do you want to get breakfast?”

She smiles, “I thought you’d never ask.”

_

Breakfast becomes another walk along the sunny streets of Seoul, which turns into grabbing beer before lunch, and after another hearty meal at a street food fair, Seungcheol finally takes Hyerin home. They’d been stalling it for long enough, he thinks, and he definitely does like her a lot. Better to settle down with her than any other random woman his mother decided to set him up on a blind date with. 

“Kkuma’s watching us,” Hyerin whispers breathlessly, panting between kisses, as she leans away from Seungcheol’s body to look at the small dog sitting far away from them but still with her eyes fixed on the two of them. 

Seungcheol laughs. “See? This is why I told you Kkuma doesn’t like it when I bring over girls.” 

“But she’s okay with you bringing over your colleague from work?” Hyerin doesn’t sound jealous, she’s too busy unbuttoning Seungcheol’s shirt. “Kkuma wasn’t at home then. My brother had taken her away for the day.” “Lucky woman, your colleague.” And her mouth is back on his, and they slobber around, making out furiously, even while the sun still shines on them from the open windows. Seungcheol’s hands grab her waist tightly as he lifts her up. He then moves away from couch and slowly makes his way to the bed, not leaving Hyerin’s mouth even once. When he’s finally laid her down on the bed and taken off her pants, the phone in the back pocket of his jeans rings. He’s tempted to ignore it, more interested in Hyerin’s bloodshot eyes staring at him hungrily and the way she’s reacting to his hands stroking over her thighs. But the phone keeps ringing, and the sound is annoying, so he takes out the phone to turn off the volume. 

Except he sees the name tag. 

It’s you. 

“Hello?” Seungcheol can hear Hyerin gasp in frustration, but he can’t help but take the call. He knows you never call him unless it’s an emergency, so this must be serious. 

“Prof. Choi? This is Prof. Y/L/N.” 

“Yes I know. What is it?” 

“Am I disturbing you? Your voice sounds curious and Seungcheol gets pissed at the stalling. “Yes, could you please tell me why you called?” “Sorry about that then, I’ll be quick. It’s just that-” “Yes?” “Hey, why so impatient?” “Prof. Y/L/N, it’s a Sunday. I’m busy, I have a personal life as well. Now could we please get on with this quickly?” 

“Prof. Choi, you know about the upcoming seminar in Singapore that our department was taking the UnderGrad students for? For the annual field trip?”

“Yes?” 

“And you know how Minhee was going to come along with me for the trip?”

“I do know that.” 

“Well, her sister’s getting married that weekend. We just got to know, I swear!” 

“We?” Seungcheol feels so lost in this conversation. 

“Yeah, well, Minhee and I. We’re actually hanging out together, right now.” “Okay? And why are you suddenly telling me about Minhee’s sister’s wedding?” “Oh, just that. Wonwoo asked me to ask you, if you’d like to come along. Minghao is really busy for that weekend with meetings for his America thing, so I really had no option but to ask you.”

There’s a very loud pause. Seungcheol is facing away from Hyerin, but he can hear her breathing clearly in the silence. She’s real sweet, waiting patiently for him to finish the call, even if he’s left her without any context.

“You can’t go alone?”

“I did tell Wonwoo I’d go alone, I am literally 33. He said no, it’s not nice to send just one professor when they’ve already made arrangements for two.”

“Can’t we send one of the PhD students? They’ll get good exposure too.”

“There are over 30 kids. Not sure how much exposure a PhD student can get from handling kids-”

“Kids who are all in their 20s. This isn’t a kindergarten field trip.”

“I’m just telling you what Wonwoo would say. I know it because I’ve suggested these exact same things to him as well.”

Another pause. Seungcheol can hear Hyerin touch herself, the sounds giving it away. He turns around and sees his suspicions confirmed. It’s an irresistible sight, her eyes closed in focus, and with the afternoon sun falling on her skin, she does look heavenly. 

Fuck you for keeping him away from this delight.

He steps closer to Hyerin, and joins her, taking her by surprise. She moans, and he hopes you weren’t able to hear it.

“Listen. I’ll let you know if I can make it. But I don’t think I’ll be free next weekend, so don’t count on me-”

“Wonwoo asked me to tell you that this would be the last step to our ‘therapy’ thing. I may have blackmailed him into agreeing to this, because he forced me to call you up.”

Seungcheol can’t focus on the phone call anymore, not with the pretty sounds Hyerin keeps muffling up, but this perks his attention. Freedom from that bullshit finally. He’d been tired of turning up to the Counsellor’s office and getting analysed by their squinty little eyes. Especially when you both had to attend together. It was getting embarrassing now, as students across the university heard rumours about this therapy thing. It was bad enough that everyone knew how much you two dislike each other. Even worse now that they thought you both needed couples’ therapy to get over your petty fights. 

Damn Wonwoo for being a smartass. Seungcheol has known this since childhood but he keeps falling for his moves each time. He can never win against Wonwoo.

“Seungcheol? Are you still there?”

“Okay Prof. Y/L/N.”

“Huh?”

“I said okay. I’m in. For the next weekend. Bye now.” Thank god he has Hyerin falling apart on his touch right now, before his mind twists and falls into a trap, thinking about the potential dangers of what he just agreed to.

“Oppa! I’m- I’m- aaah!” Hyerin’s voice is loud, and he sinks headfirst into her. “I’m here, princess. Oppa’s right here.”